Toy Soldiers
by Abandon Structure
Summary: An alternate universe where Max's squad never tried to escape and became what Lydecker always claimed - the best of the best. Explores what life inside Manticore would be like with heavy emphasis on what it means growing up transgenic.
1. Chapter 1

**February, 2005**

092 paraded at the front of the barracks, head held regally high as she made a show of imitating one of their instructors.

Light laughter – the laughter of a true child – filled the room as 599, their Alpha, chuffed her lightly in reprimand.

_Inappropriate and unacceptable_.

092 ducked her head meekly, staring up at 599, trying to gauge his mood. When he made no overt gestures of hostility, she quickly rubbed against his side before moving beyond him to her rack.

The rest of the pack dispersed some of them following 092's lead and heading to their racks to bunk down for the night, some of them dispersing to others packmates racks to pass the time.

493 threw himself on the rack between the prone forms of 452 and 210, smiling at their peeling laughter, which, to outside ears, was merely a few giggles. They were young, these child soldiers, but already they understood discipline. Loud laughter, or loud noises of any kind after lights out, would not be tolerated.

"Tell us a story, 493," 452 begged, 210 joining in. Their bright, youthful faces, lit up with joy as 493 obediently raised his hands to the light.

Other members of their pack gathered, slouching and slinking over each other until they were one big pile, one leg unidentifiable from the next. 471 curled up near 452, his biological sister, with 701 glued to his side.

766, their SIC, jokingly called them their hot and cold soldiers. A perfect team, similar to 452 and 493 when it came to escape and evade, both 471 and 701 excelled in demolitions. The deceptively small blonde was the fire, passionate and all consuming, while 471 was the cool, tempered steel that kept her in check.

766 was slouched comfortably between 599 and 353, the eldest and second eldest males of their pack. On 353's other side, 344 lay with her head in his lap, her eyes closed as 353 ran his fingers across the back of her neck in a comforting gesture. 278, the youngest of the whole squad, was squished against 344's side, with 819, the youngest female, curled into his. 525 his arm curled protectively around 819's mid-section, his nose buried in her hair, steadily breathing in her comforting scent.

417 sat just in front of his twin, 766. 766 for her part gave him a gentle nudge with her foot, moving him forward ever so slightly into 399 who sat comfortably in front of him next to 210 and 205. 417 turned and gave a mock growl. 766 raised her nose regally in the air in response, eliciting another round of quiet laughter.

Next to 205, 102 leaned comfortably into to 798, who sat upright, her posture perfect. Making a face, 263 rubbed his hands up her back, causing her to turn and look at him.

_Relax._ He signaled. _Nobody's watching but us._

798 gave a wry smile at the reminder. She had a tendency to be the most serious of the bunch, taking everything to heart. Sometimes her family, her pack, just needed to remind her that this was their 'us' time and she didn't have to try and impress the Trainers or Instructors.

Curled up on either side of him, 734 had her head curled against his shoulder, one arm wrapped around his back, the other placed gently on 798's stomach as the other X5 leaned back. 656 placed her head on 798's shoulder, her ear against 263's chest listening to his steady heartbeat. 656 felt the comforting weight of 920 behind her and, with a faint smile, closed her eyes and settled in.

Next to 734, 549 sat with the mercurial 365, who seemed to be in a calm mood as she let 092, who'd left her rack when she realized what 493 was going to do, curl into her lap.

897 cradled 092's feet in his lap, tickling them slightly, smiling as 092 giggled and wriggled in response until 365 leveled both of them with a sharp look. Her head resting on his knee, 554, 897's twin, smiled and lazily flicked one of 092's toes, causing the younger transgenic to flinch and earning her own look of reproach from 365.

633 was next, her shoulder brushing 897's, her twin, 297, next to her. On the opposite side of 633, 195 and 723 grinned as they tussled, jokingly drawing 297 in after he protested, causing 633 to roll her eyes. The final member of their pack, 732, slunk his way over to 633, blinking his eyes hopefully, grinning as she rolled her eyes again before consenting to him curling up in her lap.

They were spread out over the width of three racks, all of them touching, creating a contact that aroused deep seated feelings of peace and contentment.

Here there was safety and comfort from the harsh ravages of the day. Here they could lick their wounds and mourned for the fallen without fear of repercussion or punishment.

Here, with each other, was home.

They'd recently been learning allegorical fables in one of their culture classes and 493 had been spending a lot of his free time thinking of his own.

Today he decided to share one of them.

"Raven was a good soldier, strong and fierce. He had command of the skies and no one thought to oppose him. As great as he was at combat, so was his overconfidence."

"One day, Raven spotted someone new in his territory, a small cat."

"What are you doing in my kingdom?" Raven cawed, perching in a nearby tree to study the newcomer.

Cat knew of the Raven. She'd heard stories of his prowess on the battlefield and decided to come and test his skills herself.

"Surely one as lithe as I can best a solitary bird," she laughed to herself.

"I've come to test you warrior skills against my own," Cat called back.

And so they fought, for three long days and three long nights. Many stopped to watch, awed by Cat's agility and Raven's swiftness.

At the end of those three days, Raven, his eyesight well honed and his attention never wavering, found Cat's weakness – her eyesight was all but useless in direct light. So her lured her into an open field and while she was blinded, attacked and claimed the victory.

Cat retreated back to the place where she came, relating her tale to those who would listening and lamenting to all.

"Is there no one who can best the Raven?"

Wolf had been traveling for a long time, his pack searching for food. One day their travels led them past a small compound, where Cat resided. On this day, Cat was outside training when Wolf trotted up.

"Good morning cousin," Wolf called. "You look hurt. Is there a danger in these woods?"

"These are Raven's woods," Cat had replied. "And my wounds are his work. Are you traveling through here?"

"Yes, we are," Wolf's ears flicked back to his pack.

"Bring a gift to appease him," Cat advised as Rat came scurrying over.

"Aren't you going to ask him if he will fight the Raven?"

"I am Cat," she stated disdainfully eyeing him before turning her attention to Wolf and his pack. "If I cannot defeat him, what hope have these wolves?"

Wolf smiled to himself but said nothing.

"Who is this Raven?" Wolf asked.

"The strongest and fastest soldier of us all," Rat had replied. "He's swifter than any and equally as strong. Will you fight him?"

Wolf glanced back at his pack, all of them on their feet as they waited for his decision.

They were good soldiers, obedient and loyal. They trained daily and Wolf knew that defeating Raven would be a true sign of their excellence.

"We will," Wolf replied.

He and his pack set off into the woods.

They moved so quietly and stealthily that Raven didn't realize they were there until they were almost upon him.

"You dare invade my land?" He screamed in outrage. "I'll show you!"

He attacked the small ones first, but the larger ones rose up to defend them, their ferocity surprising and startling Raven.

Flying high above them, he watched and waited for them to reveal their weakness.

Wolf trotted to a nearby clearing, into the light, alert for signs of an attack.

He dispersed his pack, instructing some to cross the river and others to simply crouch low in the brush.

There was a stream nearby and Wolf trotted over for a drink, lowering his head and exposing his neck to Raven's sharp talons.

Cawing his victory, Raven swooped low for the attack. Closer and closer he drew, yet Wolf kept his head down, drinking from the stream.

"Arrogant fool!" Raven screamed. "I'll show you!"

Closer and closer he came until he was almost upon him. Wolf could almost feel his talons when he finally gave the signal.

His pack sprang from their spots, one leaping upwards to capture Raven in her mouth.

Raven cawed and struggled, his wings beating against her jaw, his talons reaching for her eyes.

Another male came and grabbed Raven's wing in his jaw, crushing it. Raven screamed again, no longer a battle cry but a shriek of pain.

"Put him down," Wolf ordered. The male obeyed quickly before moving back with the female to join the circling crowd.

"Who are you?" Raven asked, cradling his broken wing as he stared at them.

"We are pack," Wolf stated simply. "We are many and you are one. Concede these woods and we'll let you live."

Raven was an excellent tactician and acknowledged readily that he was unable to continue the fight with his wing broken.

So he conceded the victory and hobbled off to lick his wounds.

Wolf took over the woods with his pack, allowing free pass to the other animals in the woods. His squad patrolled to maintain the peace.

Raven recovered in time and made numerous tries at retaking his kingdom, but every one failed.

"Why can't I defeat you?" He finally cawed, broken and bleeding as he stared up in righteous fury at Wolf and his pack.

"We are pack," Wolf repeated again. "You are one. No single warrior alone is stronger than all of us together."

Raven was tossed from their territory and from that night on never returned.

Wolf and his pack lived out their days in peace, playing and laughing with each other forever and ever."

493 finished his story with a satisfied smile.

"That was brilliant," 452 stated, sleepily snuggling into his side. 493 smiled wider as thanks, dropping to his stomach and snuggling against her, letting out a contented whuff as 210 draped her arm over his stomach and cuddled into his back.

They fell asleep like that, in one giant pile, and stayed that way until lights on.

A/N: Slightly edited from the original version – but only grammatically.


	2. Chapter 2

**September, 2006**

Twenty-six soldiers stood in two perfect lines of thirteen each. 599 stood at the head of the first one, 766 by his side as his 2IC.

The whole pack was tensed with pent up rage and fear.

They'd been paired up with an X4 unit for sparring. The youngest X4 was two inches taller than their tallest member and at least fifteen pounds heavier; they were supposed to be faster and stronger, but they were so small in comparison, they just couldn't reach their intended targets with their fists and feet.

They were getting slaughtered.

599 was dripping sweat, the liquid pooling at his feet to mix with the blood of the pack as they watched yet another member hit the mat, this time with a sickening crunch – the loud report of a broken bone.

493 blanched, face twisting with the pain as he bit through his bottom lip in an effort to maintain his silence and avoid a punishment.

"What the fuck was that, 392?" The Trainer rounded in on the X4, getting up in his face as the older boy stood there, face impassive, but with eyes…

If looks could kill, the Trainer would be dead.

It hadn't been 392's fault, anyways. 493's footing had slipped and what would have been a kick that would have passed harmlessly by him ended up hitting him, knocking him to the ground where he had landed improperly and subsequently broken his arm.

493 opened his mouth to say something, but a quick gesture for one of the other X4's had him shutting it slowly, glancing quickly towards 599 who's sharp eyes were locked on him.

"Take him to solitary," the Trainer ordered two of the supervising guards, his voice full of disgust. "And drop this one off at the infirmary."

Trainer Ebbs roughly shoved 493 toward the guards, ignoring his faint whimper of pain as he picked two new targets from the assembled squads.

"873! 344!"

* * *

493 trudged next to 392, furtively glancing back at the guards who were following at a noticeable distance – just out of ear shot if he spoke low enough.

"It was my fault," he whispered to 392, who snapped his eyes down to stare at the smaller transgenic.

"Eyes front," he ordered crisply, nodding to the camera's, his lips barely moving. "They're watching."

Feeling stupid, 493 shut his mouth. He knew about the camera's, he felt their gaze constantly. How could he forget them now?

"I know it wasn't my fault," 392 took pity on the kid. He was young and not jaded enough to behave any other way. "But your arm's broken and they wouldn't fix it before delivering you to solitary."

493 nodded his understanding at the unspoken implication. They'd put him in solitary where his inhumanly fast immune system would start to repair his broken arm. By the time he'd be released, he'd have to have it rebroken in order for it to be set properly.

"Thank you," 493 whispered, earning him a genuinely startled look from 392.

"You're welcome." 392 remembered his own training pretty well, and he was almost positive they didn't get around to teaching them colloquiums like that for another two or three years. He was almost as startled by 493's knowledge of their meaning as he was at 493 using them.

_Hell, it was a nice gesture, _392 decided, giving the kid a discreet nudge and a smile as they separated, one to Discipline block, the other to the infirmary.

* * *

493 sat on one of the medical beds, his feet crossed and his arm cradled protectively in his lap as he took in his surroundings.

It was a hot day outside and the air conditioning was running full force, pushing a nice breeze across him that felt good to his X5 regular temperature of a hundred and one.

"It's too damn cold in here," one of the nurses grumbled, pushing one of the windows open and sticking her head out for a breath of fresh air.

493 watched her curiously, wondering if this was some sort of odd custom ordinaries had when opening a window.

"Hey, Ilene! Turn the radio up! Crash and Gab are on."

"I love those guys," Nurse Thomas, whom the other nurse had addressed as 'Ilene', reached for the nob on the radio and twisted it.

493 winced at the immediate assault on his X5 eardrums, settling down after a few seconds of adjustment.

"Alrighty then, folks. This is Crash and Gab and we are waiting for you to call in with your answers to this question: What is the weirdest name you've ever had for a pet?"

"Let's got to the phone lines," a second voice, Gab, stated. "This is Gab and Crash. What've you got for us, man?"

"Yeah, dude, my sister used to have this wicked huge aquarium with like, twenty or thirty fish and she named them in the order she got them."

"Dude, that's generally how it's done," Gab's voice was full of mocking scorn.

"No, no, man, I mean she named them the number she got them in. Like, this first fish she got was one, the second two, and so on. It was wicked hard to figure out which was which, specially since about half of them were goldfish who looked exactly alike."

"Dude," Crash broke in with a peel of laughter, a loud and offensive noise to 493 who didn't understand why he was laughing.

"That's wicked strange, dude. She couldn't think of any better names?"

"She said it made it easier to identify them," the caller continued, all smiles at sharing his story and having someone else find it amusing.

"Dude, I've got five brothers and sisters. Can you imagine what have happened if my mom gave us numbers instead of names?"

493 bristled as the men laughed. He didn't understand what was so funny; he went by a number and nobody laughed when he introduced himself by it.

"I'd be going into clubs and introducing myself to girls as Four."

"For what?" the other man jokingly called.

"Four anything!"

They laughed again and 493 growled faintly, low in his throat.

"Hell, they're just fish," one of them finally stated. "Stupid things don't know any better."

His growl grew in volume, causing one of the nurses to look over at him, a frown on her face.

"Okay, 493," the doctor entered, his expression haggard as he picked up 493's chart and flipped through it.

"Turn that damn thing off," he snapped to his nurses as he set about getting the supplies necessary to set the young X5's arm.

"Bunch of meaningless chatter," he grumbled to himself.

It meant something to 493, though. It meant a lot to 493.

* * *

He rejoined his squad for their afternoon training, all of it classroom work this afternoon.

The rest of his pack could sense his distress and moved closer out of a desire to comfort him. Little 452 brushed against him, her expression concerned. He smiled faintly in response, reassuring her, then the rest of his squad, that whatever was wrong with him wasn't fatal or detrimental to his performance, just troubling.

"What happened in the infirmary?" 452 asked as they took their seats for their mid-afternoon meal.

The rest of their pack huddled close, waiting for his response, the eyes of their Alpha keeping track of the guards in case they ventured too close.

493 quickly related the events from earlier to his pack.

"We're not pets!" 353 hissed, expression morphing as he growled low in his throat. Next to him, 344 had her teeth bared in an openly threatening gesture of displeasure.

599 growled his Alpha growl in warning. The pack quickly went about their business eating their food as a guard paced by their table, eyeing them suspiciously. His gaze met with their boy Alpha's and 599 bared his teeth ever so slightly, startling the young guard backwards a step before he caught himself.

"Goddamn freaks," he muttered, hitching his M16 higher on his shoulder. The X5 closest to him, 102, snarled slightly, hastening his departure, the heavy scent of fear tickling their sensitive nostrils.

"We're people," 599 stated.

"We're better than that," 344 gave a disdainful toss of her head. "We're transgenics."

Fierce smiles shared the sentiment as they finished their meal.

"We should name ourselves."

Surprisingly, it was 205 who spoke. 205 was a good soldier, excellent at diagnostics and repair and all other skills utilizing excellent hand eye coordination. He was one of the quieter members of the squad, his eerie eyes speaking of slightly more canine in his cocktail than the rest of them.

"Yes," 452 hissed, her face lit up in fierce joy. "We deserve names."

All eyes turned to their Alpha, who regarded them silently.

"We keep them to ourselves," he stated, giving his acquiescence. "They're ours, not Commands."

The unspoken understanding was that if Command became aware of their names, they would take them away.

"How do we name ourselves?" 092 asked, expression mystified. "Is there a specific protocol?"

"I think," 493 stated slowly, "that our mothers are supposed to name us."

Twenty-six souls sat in solemn silence as they considered this. They understood the concept of mothers, they even knew that each of them had one, but up until now, they hadn't really given much thought to the women whose wombs they had gestated in for nine long months.

"They're not here," 766 stated decisively. "So we'll name each other. Starting with…493."

493 blinked, surprised and honored at being the first of his pack to be named.

"How about Story?" 210 offered. 493 wrinkled his nose.

"It's too girly," 353 offered for an explanation, sputtering as 344 slapped his shoulder.

"What?" He yelped, rubbing in vain to take away the pain. 344 huffed her displeasure before turning her attention back to the task at hand.

"Fable? Teller? Speak?" 452 offered.

"I don't think we should let 452 name anybody," 525 stated wryly, earning him a dirty look from the olive skinned female.

"How about Ben?" 766 stated. 493 blinked.

"Ben," he stated softly to himself. He rolled its flavor over his tongue for several moments before smiling.

"Ben. I like it. Where did you hear it?"

"Some book called the Bible," 766 stated. "I was reading it for one of our cultural classes."

"Hey I remember that book!" 353's eyes lit up. "There's was a woman there…Eva, I think. She was the second person made."

353 sat back, happy at having remembered that.

"Eva," 766 echoed 49 – Ben's delight as she adopted her new name.

"I think we should name you Seth," 344 studied 353 with hooded eyes. "He was one of the son's of _Eve._"

353 huffed at the correction.

"I'm not changing my name," Eva piped in, pinning 344 with her regal glare. 344 shrank slightly under the look, lowering her eyes submissively to the table top.

"Seth," 599 repeated the name, studying 353. "It's a nice name."

353 was quiet for a few moments before reaching a decision.

"I like it," he agreed. "Even though I'm definitely not Eva's son."

The small pack laughed at that.

Lunch ended before they could finish their name game, but with a discreet hand signal, 599 let them know the naming would continue later, in the privacy of their barracks.

* * *

The rest of the day was spent in various classworks. The squad was split according to ethnicity, with everyone attending language classes specific to regions where they could pass as locals.

452 was in the same room as her brother, 471, and her packmate, 549.

452 didn't like language classes; she just wasn't good at them, even with an X5's superior intellect. Her brother, on the other hand...

471 was studying the board with an intensity that he couldn't be distracted from. Rolling her eyes, 452 caught 549's eyes and grinned in excitement.

Come that evening, they were getting names.

452 was already compiling a list in her mind, determined to name at least one of her siblings.

549 half listened to the instructor as he paged through their textbook, reading and memorizing the names.

Manuel, Miguel, Diego, Jorge, Catalina, Maria, Vada…

Dozens of names were fixed in his memory by the time he turned his full attention to the lesson.

They reunited after their Area specific studies, attending two more classes, one on the cultural history of the Middle East that lasted almost three hours, and another, shorter class on unconventional warfare tactics.

They ate dinner in silence, with units returning from field exercises, filling up the Mess with their quiet chatter.

599 quietly signaled for them to keep their conversations off of naming, so they had a relatively tame discussion about the new pistol they were expected to start training on the next day.

"Glock's beat Berettas easy," 525 argued spiritedly with 102, with an amused 819 stepping in every once in a while to play referee.

"The Beretta is far superior in handling and shooting," 102 lectured, every inch a soldier as he went down the list of attributes the Beretta had that the Glock couldn't hope to beat.

"You're both wrong," 633, a female with a cold temperament that could rival 344 and 766 together, stated, expression cold as she regarded her packmates with a twinkle in her eyes. "Nothing beats the Sig Sauer."

A spirited argument ensued, resulting in a covert food throwing expedition that 599 quickly put a stop to.

Still giggling, they proceeded to their last lesson of the day: the Tank.

"Keep track of the times," the overseer for the Tank activities thrust the clipboard at Ben as the rest of the squad quickly changed into the shorts and shirt that were their swimwear.

"In the pool!" The Trainer called, watching from a safe distance as twenty-five bodies dropped into the aquarium.

"On my mark, sink to the bottom and attach your ankle cords to the hooks at the bottom of the pool. Mark!"

Ben watched his pack sink into the cold water, shivering in sympathy.

The water rippled, making it impossible for him to distinguish faces, but Ben strained his eyes anyways. There were some of his packmates that didn't do well in the Tank, some of them because they genuinely couldn't hold their breaths for the pre-requisite four minutes, and some because of bad memories of this place.

They'd lost one of their fallen packmates to the tank; 859 had drowned here, hyperventilating and panicked, he'd opened his mouth.

They'd tried frantically to signal the Trainer, but by the time they'd been released, 859's body had gone slack with death.

The Trainers hadn't even tried to save him.

Ben watched one of the forms in the water start to struggle and quickly glanced at the stopwatch in his hand.

Three minutes, forty-seconds.

_Hang on, _he whispered, mentally offering support to the struggling transgenic. _Just a few seconds longer. Just hold on!_

In the water, 417 stilled his frantic movements, his eyes wide, but his mouth and nose firmly closed; he wasn't drowning.

Strangely, he felt calm despite his brain clawing at him in its desperate need for oxygen. He only had a few more seconds…

A buzzer sounded above them, the noise a faint, but welcome sound to their waterlogged ears. The hooks released and they swam upwards, breaking the surface and gulping in air.

417 wiped the water from his eyes as he treaded in place, looking up to find his twin giving him a concerned look.

_Are you okay?_ Eva signed.

_Fine._ 417 signed back, not surprised when his sister didn't look convinced. 417 didn't know why he had problems with water and his sister didn't; their DNA was identical save for the male and female chromosomes.

_Probably don't have a lot of fish DNA_, he decided, his gaze darting to where 452 and 210 were easily staying afloat.

_Shark DNA._

417 wistfully considered the possibilities if he had such DNA. He wouldn't feel like he was drowning every time he went into the water…

He wouldn't sleep, either. He didn't want Shark DNA if it meant he had to give up those precious seven hours of sleep a night. He liked sleeping.

* * *

They padded on silent feet to the showers, stripping off their water logged clothing and tossing it in the laundry bin as they slipped under the showers, Ben carefully wrapping his arm in the ever present plastic garbage bags placed in the lockers for that expressed purpose.

There were guards posted outside the locker rooms, so they bathed in relative silence, washing each others backs and smiling over their shoulders at each other.

They padded from the showers to where thirty-two nightgowns were laid out in a neat row. They quickly donned the garments, reaching into the cupboards to replace the twenty-six they'd used and gazing sadly at the remaining six.

They marched in slippered feet down the hall to their barracks, slipping wordless inside.

Near the front of the line, Eva and Seth placed themselves on either side of the doorway, out of sight as they listened for the departure of the guards.

After signaling all clear, the two took up standard guard positions as the rest of the squad huddled nearby and returned to their naming.

"I was reading names from our Spanish textbook," 549 was explaining, quickly relaying the list.

"Vada," 344 smiled in delight. "I like it. That's going to be my name."

"What about me?" 268 was the youngest member of their squad. He was a quiet, but profound speaker even at the tender age of four. His youthful impatience shown through now, though, and the rest of the unit chuffed him teasingly in response.

"Kavi," 656 decided. "I read that in one of my books. It means 'poet'."

Kavi blushed, ducking his head shyly but smiling. He liked it.

"You can be Tinga," 798 stated, pointing at 656.

"Tinga," 656 laughed in delight. "I like it. What does it mean?"

798 shrugged her shoulders, pleased at 656's delight, but unsure of the meaning. "I read it in one of my cultural studies. It was the name of the wife of a tribal leader in Malaysia."

Tinga nudged 798 with her head, grinning her acceptance.

"I like Cheyenne," 092 stated, flipping through her geography book.

"Let me see that," 525 snatched the book from her hands, disregarding the fact that he had his own. 092, Cheyenne, bared her teeth in response before huffing and turning her attention to the rest of her pack.

"I think we should name 102 Blue," 701 stated, "cause he's a really good soldier."

"True Blue all the way?" 102, Blue, questioned her source, one of the many phrases they heard Trainers muttering, especially in reference to something called 'football'.

"He's also really loyal," 798 chimed in. Blue smiled in response, causing 798 to beam at him.

"You can be Syl," 471 pointed to 701 with a smile. The pack laughed at that.

Sometimes, at night, they would sneak up the high place, one of the few places outside of their barracks that wasn't monitored. They climbed out the window and up the drainpipe to get to the roof. Back when they had first started, tiny 701 had been too short to reach the window sill and had brazening demanded someone "put me on the sill!"

"Fine," 701, Syl, accepted her moniker with easy grace. "But then 732 has to be Trip."

"Hey!" 732, Trip, protested good naturedly. "It came out of nowhere!"

There were few animals in the woods, mostly birds and squirrels; most predators avoided the area, with the instinctive knowledge that something far more dangerous and higher on the food chain than them lived there.

During one of their training exercises, Trip had been startled by a running squirrel, whirling around so fast he'd tripped over his own two feet. His squad had never let him live it down, so it seemed inevitable he'd be named after it.

Still, he liked the name, negative connotations aside.

"399's Hawk," he jerked his thumb to the quiet transgenic, who gave him a wide eyed startled look in response. "Cause he's got the best vision out of all of us."

It was true, too. Undoubtedly he had more than the simple falcon and eagle DNA the rest of them had since his vision outclassed the rest of them by at least half a mile.

"549 can be Coop," 210 decided, earning her several demanding looks. "Cause he flew the coop?"

599 grinned discreetly. Flew the coop was an outside phrase they'd become intimately familiar with, especially in reference to 549, Coop, who had a tendency to 'jump the gun' as one Trainer had put it. Full of energy and almost always moving, 549 was notorious for taking off before someone said 'Go!'

"You can be Krit," Syl decided, pointing to 471 and smiling saccharinely as he blinked suspiciously at her.

"Krit?" 452 asked, curious about the naming.

"Short for Critter, spelled with a K to make it unique like him." Syl reported with no small amount of delight.

471, Krit, rolled his eyes but accepted the name with a friendly arm slung over the small blondes shoulders.

"I want to be Austin," 525 declared, tossing the textbook he'd been leafing though back to Cheyenne, who caught it and quickly put it away before anyone else could grab it.

"Austin," 819 repeated, smiling. "I like it. What can I be called?"

"Becca," Krit stated, smiling softly. "She was one of the nicer nurses who got transferred out."

They were silent for a moment after that. Transferred out usually meant dead, and Krit made no move to correct the assumption. Nurse Becca Jordan had been kind and had given him a sucker the last time he saw her, almost a year ago, before she'd been gone.

"263 should be Sky," Tinga decided. It was another joking reference to their training. When they were training, 263 had a tendency to jump, climb, or otherwise aim the highest. One of the Trainers called it 'Reaching for the sky', and went on to state that 263 was particularly adept at it.

Sky smiled at his new name, turning his attention to the yet unnamed 798.

A small period of silence occurred, with 599 taking advantage and switching out the guard. Austin and Trip took over guard duty as Eva and Seth rejoined the squad, Eva sprawling effortlessly next to her twin and Seth settling himself next to Vada, shoving a slightly disgruntled Coop aside.

"365 should be Switch," Eva stated. "Causes she switches moods without warning."

365, Switch, smirked at the reference to her behavior and accepted the name with twinkling eyes.

"633 is Mercy," Seth stated, eager to put in his choice.

"Because she has none," 798 agreed with a smile. 633, Mercy, shrugged a shoulder, unapologetic of her nature, the same as her packmate, Switch.

There were only a few of them left, and Ben took it upon himself to make sure 210 and 452 were next.

"Max," he finally decided, looking at 452. "Because she's always pushing to the max."

Max glowed both with pleasure at her new name and the compliment.

"And you're Jondy," Ben smiled as 210 arched an eyebrow, inviting an explanation. "Your jaunty way."

Flushing, 210, Jondy, smiled grudgingly. It was true she had a tendency to be somewhat cheerful under inappropriate circumstances, namely mocking Trainers when their backs were turned and they were out of sight of the camera's.

They had six unnamed soldiers left, their Alpha among them.

Eva regarded her twin carefully, considering various options and eliminating them. They were either too showy, or too weird, neither of which her down to earth brother would appreciate.

"Jack," she finally decided. Of all the names, it was the simplest name she could think of that seemed appropriately.

417, Jack, gave a quick smile of delight before tackling his sister, the two of them rolling around in a yipping pile of joy until 599 motioned for them to stop. They returned to the task at hand, flushed and grinning.

"205 should be Zane," Cheyenne decided. "Cause he's odd, which is synonymous with zany."

Zane grinned at the reference to his eccentric nature, before turning his attention to the other unnamed ones.

"Jace," he pointed to 798, shrugging under her curious look. "I heard it somewhere and liked it. I figured you'd like it too." 798, Jace, smiled and nodded her head in response.

They only had three left to name now, 897, 734, and their leader, 599.

599 would be named last was their unspoken agreement as the rest of them surveyed the remaining two.

"Brin," 734 busted out, startling them all. She flushed as they blinked in surprise. "I like the name Brin," she continued shyly.

"Brin it is," Seth grinned at her, ruffling the top of her head, his smiling widening as she slapped his hand away.

"What was the name of that guy Trainer McHugh is always talking about? The one with the off the charts IQ?"

"Boy wonder?" Coop hazarded, earning him a slap upside the head from Vada.

"Sean," Vada answered Max's question.

"Sean," Max stated, pointing to 897.

Sean grinned at the name.

"You do realize we're going to call you Boy Wonder from now on?" Zane put in conversationally, his arm slung around Jondy, both of them wearing wide grins of absolute glee.

Sean groaned theatrically.

"I want a new name," he moaned.

"Tough. You're just going to have to suffer." Mercy replied, living up to her namesake.

All eyes turned to their Alpha, their CO, 599.

"Sarge?" Sean stated. Max made a face.

"Honcho?" Everyone groaned at that.

"All in favor of forbidding Maxie from making any more suggestions?" Ben was the first to raise his hand, ducking as Max chucked a pillow with deadly accuracy at his head.

"How about Zack?" Hawk put in his first, and only, suggestion of the night.

"Zack." 599 nodded his head once, indicating that the matter was decided. He was now Zack.

"What about the others?" Mercy spoke, her words rushed, biting her lip in an uncharacteristic expression of worry. "Can we name them?"

"They should have names, too," she continued, straightening her spine under Zack's all knowing gaze.

"Yeah, they should," Max reached over and wrapped her arms around Mercy, snuggling against her. Mercy lowered her nose to Max's small tuff of hair and inhaled, taking in the comforting scent of pack and exhaling on a sigh.

"Do you want to go first?" Max asked, her voice soft against Mercy's chest.

"Reb, cause he was always such a rebel," she decided, with a faint smile. Reb, 297. _Her _twin brother. He'd died during a training exercise, their first live fire one. None of the trainers had told them the rounds were live. A bird had startled Syl. She'd fired on instinct, not knowing that they had live ammunition. Syl had spent two weeks in Psy-Ops for the mistake. The day she'd been released, she'd lain in her bunk, all curled up in a ball, quietly crying. When Krit had moved to comfort her, Mercy had gently pushed him aside and crawled in the rack next to her, wrapping the smaller transgenics in her arms, their tears mingling, as they shared their mutual grief at the loss of a brother.

"859 should be Cody," Zack stated, eyes lowered in sorrow at the memory of their fallen comrade. Eva and Seth pressed against him in a show of comfort and support. 859, Cody, had been Zack's best friend.

"He was always good with ciphers and encryptions," Vada agreed with a faint smile.

"195 can be Nik," Cheyenne decided. "He was always good at stealing things."

He'd been ripped apart by something in the woods during an exercise; they had yet to identify what, exactly, beyond it being a nomaly of some sort. When the found it, however, they were going to return the favor.

Their hackles rose and as one they moved closer, baring their teeth in an effort to ward off the chilling memory.

"920 is Demi," Switch stated. "Cause she was such a little Demon."

Demi, with her laughing green eyes and prankish nature. She'd fallen during Airborne training, her rig snapping.

She'd hit the ground, her neck breaking on impact.

She'd still been breathing though when they reached her. At least, until the Trainer had put a bullet through her heart.

He'd been reprimanded later by his CO; a broken neck for an X5 was like a broken arm to an ordinary, it would've healed.

The hole in her chest wouldn't. The bullet had torn through her heart, leaving a gaping hole and giving the rest of her pack an up close view of her insides.

"554 is Tanya, cause it's a pretty name like she was," Sean smiled sadly at the memory of his sister, another twin. They didn't know why there was such an abundance of them in their squad, only that there was.

Tanya had been the first to get the shakes, their name for the seizures that plagued them on an inconsistent basis. She'd been shaking in her rack one night. They'd moved instinctively to comfort her, curling up around her, offering their heat and support.

The shaking had slowed, then stopped.

And then so had her heart.

They still didn't know why, but as far as deaths went, Sean was happy that she'd died in her sleep, at peace instead of in the midst of battle.

"Mark," Zane stated, naming their last fallen comrade, 723. He'd been great at identifying which Trainers would let them goof off and which one's wouldn't, excellent at identifying key personality traits in people and manipulating them for favorable outcomes.

He'd died turning a POW simulation. He'd refused to break, same as the rest of them, but somewhere along the line he'd lost it. His personality, his sanity, had shattered. The last any of them had seen of him, the guards had been dragging his bloody, almost unrecognizable body down the back halls of the closed off lab where the simulation was taking place.

Breathing quietly, the squad silently curled in on itself, Austin and Trip switching with Zack and Blue for guard duty and silently slinking into the pile of warm bodies.

Lights on came and went and so did another day.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Rogers Cross is actually Rogers Pass. When I started writing, I got the names confused and by the time I realized it, I sort of liked Rogers Cross better than Rogers Pass so I kept it.**

**January, 2007**

"Welcome to the Icebox."

As far as greetings went, it was a piss poor one.

Max shivered in her layered winter BDU's as she stood in line with her fellow X5's.

Four squads had been transported up for Arctic Survival training, along with an additional two squads of odd looking, blue skinned soldiers who wore custom made white BDU's that looked paper thin and offered absolutely no protection from the biting cold.

"Squads 11 and 9, you'll be doing maneuvers in the snow. Squad 6 will work with AAC-1 and Squad 3 with AAC-2. Form up and move out."

Zack led them to AAC-2, expression blank as he regarded their blue faced leader with trained patience.

"So you're the infamous X5-599," their leader murmured, cocking his head to the side as he regarded Zack with barely concealed amusement.

Zack really wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that so he did and said nothing.

"Can it speak?" One of the soldiers standing behind the leader spoke, flashing white teeth in obvious amusement.

Squad 3 shifted uneasily. They had very little experience with anomalies, at least outside of the basement. The Colonel would march them through there every once in a while as a sort of reminder that if they didn't do good, didn't perform and meet Manticore expectations, the basement was where they would end up.

"We speak," surprisingly it was Cheyenne who piped up for all of them, tiny gloved hands placed on her hips as she gave the speaker a narrow eyed glare. "We're just surprised you do."

There was an odd sort of noise coming from the female at the leaders side and it took Zack a minute to identify it as laughter.

"She got you there, Bur," the female chortled, standing easy next to their leader as the rest of their squad moved behind them, packing the gear they were gonna need for this training mission.

"Bur?" Cheyenne blinked in surprise, her mouth opening slightly before a chilling breeze danced across her teeth and into her lungs and prompted her to close it.

"First thing you need to know, kid: we got names, not designations. Mine's Tran. Bur is my second, and this here is Lili. The others will introduce themselves as we go. Second thing you need to know is this: command debriefed you on the portable GPS finders, right?" Still reeling from the knowledge that the nomalies had names, the majority of the squad didn't respond.

"Yes," Zack spoke, answering for all of them.

"Yeah, well, what they didn't tell you is that those things freeze at the drop of a hat. Keep them running all the time and keep them inside your BDU's. If you drop it, lose it, or it miraculously manages to get away from you, pray to whoever and whatever that somebody is near enough to hear you scream, otherwise you're gonna be popsicles."

"Popsicles?" Cheyenne's brow curled in confusion as she and the rest of the squad shared bewildered expressions.

"X-series," Lili offered the words like an explanation, which, in the AAC's minds, it was.

"It's a treat ordinaries eat," another nomalie stated, moving from his completed task to stand next to Lili. "Take some of the snow and imagine it's flavored with some of the fruit they give us at Mess. Ordinaries eat it on hot days to cool down."

"Why wouldn't they simply seek out shade or move to cooler barracks?" Sean forgot his fear of nomalies as he puzzled over the oddities that were ordinaries.

"Cause it tastes good," Bur answered with a grunt, lifting his attention from the map in his hands.

"Fleet," Tran called, drawing the attention of another nomalie.

"Sir?"

"Weapons secure?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Including the explosives?" Tran arched an eyebrow and Squad 3 watched in complete fascination as Fleet turned an interesting shade of purple. On anybody else, the X5's would have assumed that particular shade meant that the person wearing it was choking to death, but on the nomalie, it appeared to be embarrassment.

"Oh, come off it, Tran. That was one time!" Another nomalie piped in, tugging at the strings securing the pack to a smaller nomalie before giving the female a hit to the shoulder indicating she was good to go.

"Yuki!" Tran called to the female next to the male. "Keep your brother in line!"

"I thought that was your job, Sir," Yuki shot back as she moved past her brother to stand next to Lili.

"Nah," Lili replied, tightening the last strap on her own rucksack before looking up with a grin. "Tran's afraid that Yumi might pull another Selkirk."

A chuckle passed through the now gathered crowd of nomalies as they faced the younger and obviously colder X5's.

"Alright, here's the objective: Command wants you to be deployable in any combat theatre, which surprise, surprise, happens to include cold places, like here, for instance." Tran's hand motioned to the vast expanse of white surrounding them.

"Rogers Cross is the tenth coldest place in the world. The fact that you are standing here instead of lying dead in a ditch somewhere is a testament to good breeding." There was a wide variety of different types of laughter now as the rest of AAC-2 grouped up behind their leader.

Their position blocked some of the wind from the X5's, for which they were eternally grateful.

"So we're gonna train you on how to survive, how to track, and how to become invisible in the snow."

"Any questions?"

Tran surveyed the twenty-six X5's in front of him with a wry grin and a head full of thoughts.

He had special orders concerning this squad; orders from on high that had him radiating with tension.

Squad 3 was supposed to be pretty damn good and he hoped like hell that was true because otherwise, he was in trouble.

When no questions were put forth, he nodded his head once and turned into the wind.

"Then let's get moving."

* * *

"What was the point of shipping four Squads over two hundred miles to frolic in the snow when we have plenty of that shit here?"

Colonel Jacobs was visiting Colonel Lydecker at his home base, watching the masses training in the snow filled yard below as he sipped at his nice warm hot chocolate.

"The average temperature in Gillette this time of year is only about ten degrees. The coldest day in the past ten years was only twelve below."

"And the temperatures in Rogers Cross?"

"Seventy below."

"Shit, Deck. You tryin' to kill them?"

"I'm trying to train them," Lydecker corrected from his office seat. He flipped the folder shut on the file he was reading and turned his attention to his friend.

"I sent up two teams of AAC's. They have special instructions regarding Squad 3."

"Special instructions." Jacobs snorted at that. He'd read Deck's special instructions; all of the directors had. If this went as planned, the Arctic training would be added into the advanced training regime that was being designed for the Alpha Squads.

If this went according the plan, Jacobs would eat his boot.

"I'm telling you, Deck, no matter how good your kids are, they ain't that good."

"And I'm telling you they are."

* * *

They hiked a couple of clicks from the base until they were well and truly engulfed in an overwhelming wave of white.

"Alrighty then," Tran surveyed their surroundings carefully.

AAC-2 had been trucked in a couple of days ahead of time to do a survey of the terrain to make sure they avoided hidden cracks and crevices. That was what they had the maps for.

"Anything?" He asked Bur, his official SIC.

"Half a click north, there's a decent sized one," Bur replied quietly, the wind carrying their voices before the X5's could hear their words.

"You sure about this, Tran?" Lili spoke, hunching next to him. They were born and bred for the cold, but there were limits to how cold they could get; at a certain point, everything froze.

"I'm sure that we have orders to do this," Tran replied, voice tight with displeasure.

"I don't like it," Yuki and her twin joined the circle, expressions grim.

"We don't have to like it, we just have to do it," Tran replied with a tired sigh as he ran an icy blue hand through his snow white hair.

"We've got three hours to teach them the basics," Tran instructed his four lieutenants. "Do everything in your power to make sure they know it."

"Understood, Sir," Lili answered for all of them as she turned her attention to the X5's in front of them.

"Fall in!" She called while Tran and Bur continued to consult the maps behind her.

The X5s formed ranks, with 599 at the head and 766 and 353 on either side.

"The first thing we're going to teach you is basic survival in sub-zero temperatures."

"First thing you're gonna have to know is what hypothermia feels like. Any volunteers?"

* * *

Max was frozen to her core; she was so cold she could barely move.

"You okay?" Akiyo asked her as he placed a gentle hand on her back.

"Fff…fffii…fiiiinnne.." Max managed to stutter out around her chattering teeth as she peered through the scope of her rifle as she tried to spot Nola in the snow.

It took nearly all of her focus just to keep from jostling the scope, so she was having a real hard time finding anything in the snow, let alone Nola.

Next to her Jondy was doing only marginally better in her own search.

"I've got movement," Jondy murmured a minute later.

"Where?" Max asked, her breathing evening out and her adrenaline spiking at the thought of achieving their objective.

"Grid 19," Jondy replied, peering through her own scope before moving away to do a double check visually.

"Can you confirm?"

It took Max a few seconds, but she caught the movement Jondy had seen. Tracking it carefully, she managed to identify Nola's patrician features after a few seconds.

"Confirmed," she agreed with a heartfelt sigh.

"Confirmed," Rin stated, moving from his prone position to upright in one fluid movement.

"We done?" Akiyo asked, stretching his legs in front of him and pointing his toes as he watched Rin deftly disassemble the scope.

"We're done," Rin confirmed.

There was an unpleasant note to his words that had Max and Jondy cluing in and glancing over with narrow eyed suspicion.

_{RC-1, then is RC-3. We have completed the training objective, over.}_ Akiyo keyed his mike and waited for the response.

_{Roger that, RC-3. Proceed to Rally Point B, over.}_

Akiyo glanced over at Rin, who had poked his head out of the cave to signal for Nola's return, meeting his grim expression with a heartfelt look of disgust.

"Took you long enough," Nola sassed with a grin as she re-entered their cave, running a hand through her hair and shaking it to get all the snowflakes out.

"Not nearly," Rin muttered as he finished stowing their gear in his pack and got to his feet.

"Gear up," he ordered after a moments pause, turning to watch as the two X5's in the hut with them quickly replaced everything where it was supposed to be. Double checking to make sure their GPS locaters were covered and active, Rin gave the straps of their packs a quick tug to make sure they were on tight before turning towards the head of the cave and leading the way into the snow.

* * *

Tran had that 'bad-taste-in-your-mouth-sinking-feeling-in-your-gut' feeling that usually met something bad was about to go down.

"Where is everybody?" the kid CO spoke from next to him, his entire body alert. Or, at least, Tran was pretty sure he was alert. Damn kid was layered up under so much material it was kind of hard to get a read.

_{All RC's, this is RC-1 requesting location identification ASAP}_

Tran wanted to know where his men were. While it was true they were at home among the valleys and mountains of snow surrounding them, it wasn't impossible for one of them to get lost. Inbred directional capabilities aside, there were all sorts of pitfalls hidden in the snow and ice that could kill an AAC just as easily as it could kill an ordinary.

_{RC-2 is approximately three clicks north-northwest of your current position. ETA ten minutes}_

_{RC-3 is an eighth of a click out. ETA thirty seconds.} _Rin was being a smartass – already Tran and the kid CO could see him, the other two AAC's and the two small X5 females making their way through the snow.

_{RC-4 is two clicks southwest. ETA eight minutes.}_

_{RC-5 is half a click east. ETA three minutes.}_

_{RC-7 is a click and a half southeast. ETA five minutes.}_

There was no RC-6; when Cheyenne had tried to ask why earlier, everybody had gotten real quiet and exchanged looks that the X5's couldn't quite decipher.

"RC-6 is a spook designator," Kaveri, another one of their males, had stated, spitting into the snow. His saliva hit the ground as an icy ball, which was fascinating in and of itself, but Cheyenne was focused entirely on Kav.

"What does that mean?" She pressed despite their obvious discomfort.

"It means that the last group to go out with the designator RC-6 died," Bur had replied, his voice tight and biting as he gave Cheyenne an icy stare that was almost colder than their current environment.

There was more to the story, but it was private, AAC business – Tran wasn't in the business of airing their dirty laundry to anybody and everybody with questions.

Rin arrived with the two female X5's who quickly moved next to their leader.

"How'd they do?" Tran asked, his gaze steady on the horizon, searching for the other groups.

"Fifteen minutes," Rin replied blandly. "Not bad."

Tran grunted in response; the slowest member of their squad could do it in ten.

He was starting to feel almost disappointed in commands evaluations of Squad 3 – nothing they had done so far had moved out of the realm of average into the extraordinary.

"You think they're ready?" Rin murmured in an aside to Tran as the two of them paced away from the X5's.

"Doesn't matter," Tran repeated for the umpteenth time, only this time it was out loud.

"Doesn't matter what I think," he elaborated. "Doesn't matter that I think this whole thing is a fucking Chernobyl in the making. What Command wishes – "

" – is what the grunt dishes," Rin finished with a humorless smile. It faded as Rin fixed his CO with a serious look.

"Are we really going to leave them out there?"

Their orders, as they had been debriefed way back when before they'd been shipped up north to this fun little slice of Arctic-cold paradise, had been to teach the X5's everything they'd need to know about surviving in subzero temperatures before leaving them there to make their way back to base all by their lonesome.

As far as orders went, Tran had had a lot of dumb ones pass through him in his nearly sixteen years of command. The last dumb one he'd followed, though, had resulted in the loss of ten AAC's.

He was a bit leery of following orders blindly after that disaster.

Still, it wasn't like the X5's were his kind. He didn't know them from strangers, really. Course, he'd heard hearsay about how special and great they were, but in the winter wonderland that was his world, they weren't even close to elite.

But they were just a bunch of kids…599 was only a few years younger than Tran's youngest soldier. He didn't want to leave them here for the same reason he wouldn't leave Sapphire or Iara: they were small, tiny, and damn near defenseless against the cold.

It took a couple of years for the AAC's to layer up enough internal fat to protect them and both Iara and Sapphire were only just starting. Hell, even Tran wasn't fully insulated against the cold yet.

"No," Tran decided with deep exhale through his nose, the breath misting in the air as he turned his head to where Akiyo and Nola were quizzing the younger X5's. "We'll split into two teams and track them on the flanks, make sure they don't get too lost or hit a crevice and fall."

Hypothermia was always the greatest danger in weather like this, but with this kind of terrain, the possibility of stepping into a canyon that was covered with snow was almost as high. In essence, the entire Arctic circle was just a giant floating mass of ice. There were cracks and crevices everywhere. Rogers Pass had the distinction of having actual land underneath them, but the snow still kept the danger zones pretty much hidden.

"At least they have trees."

"Yeah." Cause a pine was really going to help them at seventy below.

* * *

Zack felt it the second something went wrong; a deep, invasive feeling of unease that had him tensing even before the radio crackled to life.

_{RC-1…is RC-2} _The radio crackled as the single was lost before bursting to life again in a blast of static. _{…fell into the canyon…broken leg…hypothermia…assistance, over}_

_{Say again, RC-2} _Tran barked into the radio as both squads circled him. _{Your signal is breaking up. Repeat your location}_

_{…half a click…east, north-…over}_

Fleet had the maps out and spread before Tran could even so much as glance at him.

_{Say again, RC-2. We can't understand you}_ Nothing but static greeted them in reply.

"Damnit," Tran swore and turned his attention to Fleet. "Where are they?"

"Given where they were coming from and what direction they were heading in, they could be anywhere within this radius," Fleet circled his finger around a small section of the map. To scale, though, it encompassed about five miles of both open space and wilderness.

"We'll need to split into teams," Tran stated, his eyes on the map as his brain moved through the actions he was going to have to take.

"Shouldn't we radio base?" 599's voice was bland but his eyes were filled with suspicion when Tran glanced over at him.

Sharing a look with Bur, Tran glanced down at the watch on his wrist and shook his head.

"We're under radio silence for the next eight hours," he stated, grim voiced. Eight hours had been the time limit assigned to them by the Colonel; if Squad 3 hadn't made it back by then, it was to be assumed that they weren't going to make it back at all.

Bunch of goddamn assholes.

"Why?" Little 092 was pretty mouthy for such a small thing, and she was staring at him with just about as much suspicion as her CO.

"Why do you think?" Tran replied, lacking the patience to deal with this rationally. If they were back home in Gillette, he wouldn't have such a big problem; the temperatures there were like a warm summer breeze to all of them. But Rogers Cross was cold enough to half-freeze the older ones and almost completely freeze the younger ones. And Sapphire was in RC-2…

"Command told you to leave us out here, didn't they?" It was a rhetorical question; 599 never would have asked it if he didn't already know the answer.

"Before, yes," Tran answered tersely. "But things have changed."

"How do we know this isn't just another test?" 897 piped in from his position next to 092.

"Because it's not," Tran snapped. "And I never would have left you out here alone in the first place. This kind of weather could kill one of us in a half an hour if we were alone. The lot of you wouldn't have lasted ten minutes, even with the survival training we gave you."

That had their pale faces already paling.

"Then why would command have ordered you to do it?" 344's voice was shaky, which pretty much summed up the general feeling among the X5's.

"Because command's made up of a bunch of assholes who wouldn't know a field mission if it bit them in the ass. They go on what they think rather than what they know and people usually end up dying because of it," Bur's voice held a bitter note to it that had Tran turning and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

One of the AAC's they'd lost had been his twin.

"That's considered treasonous talk," 102's voice held just the barest hint of fear, as if he expected the brass to descend down upon them at any moment.

"Let me tell you something, 102 – you know what real treason is?" Bur stated, attracting the attention of all of them, even Tran.

"Real treason is seeing people that you love suffer and die for no reason other than somebody somewhere thought it would be a good idea to see if something could kill you."

"Bur," Tran drew the attention of his SIC, a look passing between the two of them that the X5's couldn't quite decipher.

"Sir," Bur acquiescenced, dropping his head as Tran turned to address the X5's.

"We split up into four groups. Group A will take Quadrant 1, B Quadrant 2, C Quadrant 3, and D Quadrant 4. First group to find them radios for assistance and renders aid. We'll proceed from there."

* * *

Krit was hanging on to Syl with all of his might and it wasn't just for warmth.

When the ice had cracked beneath them sending both her and one of the AAC males tumbling into open space…

He'd lunged, grabbing the males hand even as Syl latched on to his leg.

It'd been an instinctive reaction – reaching out to save her as she fell. It had only taken his exceptional brain a few seconds to calculate the distance and velocity they were moving at and adjust himself accordingly.

Common sense, though, had been suspended – he was strong for his age and size as well as his breed, but he wasn't that strong without leverage and in the icy planes underneath them he'd found none.

The three of them had gone crashing into the ice below, Krit's forward momentum giving him some added oomph so that when the other two continued their downward spiral, they found their landing spot right on top of him.

Hence his broken leg, bruised ribs, and concussion – none of which were going to be very painful for much longer if the creeping edges of hypothermia got to him before the rest of their squads could.

Seth hovered above them, his double forms blurry in Krit's concussed vision as Syl wrapped her arms tighter around him despite his pained grunt.

"You okay?" Ben hovered nearby, a cut along the side of his freeze bleeding sluggishly in the cold. He'd scrambled down after them too fast, slipping and banging his head before impacting with the ice below – hard.

He was bruised and a bit battered, but still functional. Unlike Krit, who was seeing double and shaking like a freaking leaf.

"I'll live," Krit replied with a tight smile, or at least he tried to. But the words came out completely garbled his teeth were chattering so hard.

"Are you getting a radio signal yet?" Syl asked, her entire body distressed, as she glanced over at Ben.

Ben glanced up to where Seth was crouched near the top of the crevice, passing along the question through hand signals. Tran had told them even before they broke off into groups that all communication was to be done by radio – any shouting could quite possibly cause an avalanche, or even cave-ins for those unfortunate enough to find themselves in the their current situation.

Seth gave the negative signal and Ben just barely fought the urge to snarl in sheer frustration.

"Here," Kah, the male AAC who'd gone down with them, moved from where he was leaning against the wall, working on jury-rigging a stretcher to lift Krit out when help arrived.

When – not if.

"Finish rigging this up," Kah gave Ben a tap on the shoulder as he rose to his feet. "I'll climb up and see what's going on."

As an AAC, he was equipped to hand the cold and function in it far better than the mostly mammalian X-series. He scaled the wall in under five minutes while Ben watched with grudging respect and Syl with distressed worry.

"Anything?" Kah asked, crouching over a shivering Sapphire even as Zaan hugged Reem a little tighter to him. The X5 male, 353, was huddled between the two groups, his shaking just slightly more obvious than theirs.

"We got a brief signal for a couple of seconds, but I'm not sure if anything got out," Zaan's grim faced reply had Kah's gut clenching.

"They better get here, soon. Hypothermia's starting to set in with 471, and 701's gonna be next."

"Krit," 353 spoke, startling all of theirs attention to him. He stared up at them with a warm hint of defiance in his eyes. "His name is Krit, and 701 is Syl."

"Well I'll be damned," Zaan borrowed one of their overseers favorite phrases as he stared at the young X5 in obvious surprise. "You have names?"

"So do you," 353 pointed out dryly, half-grinning at their dumbfounded expressions.

"Yeah, but we're us and you're you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Expression defensive and teeth bared in outright anger at their dismissive attitudes, 353 glared at the four of them.

"Whoa, there. Take it easy, 353."

"Seth."

"Seth," Zaan corrected himself. "We're just saying, command is always going on and on about how you're this perfect squad, following orders and performing well above mission parameters. Command seems to think the sun shines out of your asses, so we're just a bit surprised to find that you violated protocol and named yourselves."

Seth was silent in response to that, puzzling through some of Zaan's language and being left with the knowledge that Command was watching them constantly.

It shouldn't have been news to him, but it was. Up until the moment when Zaan stated it out loud, the knowledge that the brass pushed them harder than the rest of the squads had been in the back of Seth's mind, but now it had risen to the forefront and he wasn't sure he liked it.

Scratch that – he hated it. It was because of that label of excellence he and his were huddled here in the freezing cold waiting for a rescue that should have been there hours ago but wasn't coming.

Zaan had already explained Manticores plan to him, as soon as it had become apparent that Krit was really hurt and that they were going to need help to get him out of there.

Kah had been carrying the maps which had slipped from his grip and fallen deeper into the crevice than even tiny little Syl could reach. Their GPS locators only functioned above the crevice – hence the reason the five of them were crouched here in the snow. Coupled with that, Seth was pretty sure that even though she hadn't said anything Syl's arm was broken, leaving them with not one but two X5's they were going to have to lift out.

They'd considered evacing Krit and taking their chances in the snow, but with possible internal bleeding thanks to the broken ribs, they'd vetoed that idea. Chances were about fifty fifty between their squads finding them and all eight of them dying in the snow right now, but traveling out into the wilderness with no map and only a general sense of direction to go on would have made their odds of survival just about zero.

Even worse was the fact that they had realized – with the cloud coverage – that their locators weren't one hundred percent effective. They'd done a quick run through to prove their theory, resulting in a brief five minute search and rescue when Reem had disappeared in the snow and no one could find him.

In short, their only hope of survival was with their squads.

* * *

"This wasn't the plan," Vivian Blaise was a civilian. Plans to her were like commandments from God: Unbending and incapable of alterations.

She was an experiment by the Committee to see how well a military based facility could be run by somebody with absolutely no military experience. It was supposed to be its own system of checks and balances, but mostly the other directors found her supremely irritating.

"Plans rarely last the first five minutes of battle," Thomas Kincaid, director of their Las Vegas facility, murmured lackadaisically as he flipped a pen over his fingers and stared around the table with perpetual amusement.

Jacobs wasn't particularly fond of him, and Lydecker thought him to be extremely dangerous despite his apparent good humor. A military doctor recruited from the Navy's Special Warfare section, there were sections in his file that had Lydecker's eyebrows skyrocketing. Considering the fact that most of it had been blacked out in the first copy he'd found, he'd been very careful with placing his trust in the large blonde man since.

"That's what contingency plans are for," Ms. Blaise turned her nose up at the blonde and turned her attention to Lydecker.

"If we deploy the snow mobiles now, we can have them gathered and safe in a matter of hours."

"To what end?" Domingo Martinez Lydecker liked even less than Kincaid. Kincaid was smart, dangerously so, but he knew where the limits were and he was smart enough not to cross them, not the mention sane enough.

Martinez had lost his mind a long time ago, but he was damned good at hiding it. He functioned decently enough and his facility did excellent in the standings, but Lydecker had had more than one disturbing report regarding Martinez and his…_unique_…proclivities cross his desk. And there was always the monumental fuck-up with the Ghost Squad...

He had people working on compiling a report to get the man removed from his position, but these things took time.

He only wished that there was a trainer at the Syracuse facility that would take the initiative – like Jacobs had – to do away with their current director if Martinez went _loco._

"The purpose of this experiment is to see how well they will function in a real-world situation where they're out of contact with base and their chances of survival are slim."

"And why are we doing this again?" Blaise inserted herself back into the conversation. As the only female director, she often times acted like they discounted her because of her gender. Truthfully, though, none of them gave a rats ass about the location of her reproductive organs.

No, their biggest issue with her was her lack of military training. No doubt she was smart, but book-smart and real-world smart were two very different things in their line of work.

The fact that she had even asked the question had Lydecker making a mental note to go about her removal as well.

"We're doing this because we didn't pay to create a safe soldier." Lydecker leaned back in his chair as he spoke, his slightly raspy voice dead serious as his co-directors fixed their gazes on him.

"These kids are trained to be the best, and the only way to become the best is to put them in impossible situations and force them to find ways to overcome against the odds."

"If they're impossible situations, then there is no overcoming the odds," Blaise pointed out, interrupting him.

The look he fixed her with had her twitching, but she didn't back away like other people usually did. She gained a grudging amount of respect for that act alone.

"Impossible for ordinary men and women," Martinez pointed out before Lydecker could say anything. "But the X5s are far from ordinary."

"But they're still kids," Kincaid stated, his soothingly calm voice mellow as a summer afternoon.

"The youngest in the field is six. That's five years of full-out training," Jacobs leaned against the wall as he spoke. "Most guys get sent out after two or three."

"I'm not disagreeing with their training," Kincaid continued in that even tone. "I am simply stating facts: physiologically, they are still children. Though far superior to normal kids, they still lack some of the necessary survival tools inherent to adults."

"Height?" Martinez's joke fell flat.

"Body fat, actually," Kincaid commented dryly.

"Body fat?" Jacobs arched an eyebrow disbelievingly.

"Body fat is a necessary survival tool," Lydecker surprised all of them by speaking. "It insulates the body in colder temperatures and provides padding for the internal organs. Even the X-series requires a certain degree of it."

"I take it, then, you tested them to ascertain that fact?" Kincaid's laid back humor was conveyed in every inch of his body posture, but his eyes were pure shark.

"I tested them. According to our IT units, they have sufficient body stores to last them to duration of the mission."

"If they succeed," Kincaid stated somberly.

* * *

Krit's lips were starting to turn blue. His leg was already an ugly mottled purple, and the rest of him wouldn't stop shaking.

As much as it terrified him to watch his packmate shake, Ben was grateful for any movement.

No movement was bad. No movement was Syl.

Krit was half-delirious with cold and pain, but he had a death grip on the too-still blonde, his eyes wild as he stared up at Ben.

"Do something!" He gritted out through chattering teeth, his frantic eyes darting between Ben, Seth, and the others.

Two of the AAC's, Kah & Reem, huddled at the top of the crevice. Sapphire and Zaan were crouched over the comatose blonde.

"We can't warm her up," Zaan stated, voice low and directed at Seth and Ben. Krit was so far gone by this point Zaan and Sapphire's pale skin had made them one with the walls in his blurry vision.

"You haven't even tried!" Seth bit back, frantic.

"No, I mean we literally can't. Our base body temperatures are like seventy something degrees. We won't get her hot enough."

"So what do we do?" Ben had as much of Syl in his arms as he could manage. The rest of her was locked in Krit's ironclad grip.

"Strip."

"Huh?"

* * *

_{We've got movement}_

Zack just barely kept his urge to sprint in check as they caught sight of a blue mass in the distance.

It was snowing, blizzard like conditions ascending, making it near impossible for even the far superior X5 vision to make out anything in the snow.

_{Try for contact, Bur, over}_

The radio cackled for a few moments as Bur switched frequencies.

_{RC-2_ _this is RC-Alpha. Can you hear me, over}_

Kah damn near sang 'Hallalujah' when Bur's familiar gruff tones came cackling down the line.

_{I copy, over.}_

_{Check your six due south}_

Turning, Kah squinted for just a minute before grinning.

_{I see you}_

Less than a hundred feet away, Bur let out a quiet sigh of relief he knew the kid CO would hear but he didn't particularly care about that right then.

_{Switch to frequency Alpha-niner, RC-2}_

_

* * *

_

The welcome backs of his family were slight by a regular persons standards, but they were shouts in and of themselves to Kah's cold ears.

"Where are my men?" Were the first words Zack spoke to him.

"Down below," Kah nodded to the crevice next to him. "Me and Syl slipped, Krit fell going after us, and Ben's pretty banged up, too."

"Seth?" Zack didn't even bat an eyelash to the name calling.

"Fine," Kah replied. "But we're going to need help getting the other two out, not to mention keeping them alive."

They had no shame about nudity; they bathed and showered in front of each other all the time.

They'd never been this close while naked, though. It wasn't uncomfortable, par se, just a bit weird.

The four of them huddled in a cocoon of their gear, naked as the days they were born and smooshed as close as they could get without actually being inside one another.

"How's her coloring?" Zaan hovered over them, the worried nursemaid. He was the med tech for their squad, which wasn't saying much in regards to the X5's.

Command didn't see fit to debrief them beyond their 'race' so to speak. Zaan knew AAC physiology and that was pretty much it.

Still, basics were basics, and the best way he knew to raise someones body temperature was skin on skin contact.

"Better," Seth answered for all of them. The largest of the four X5's, he held the smallest in his arms, with Krit pressed as close as he could get. Pain still colored his features, but his lips were no longer blue with cold and he was doing a better job of focusing than before.

"Her lips aren't blue anymore, and her limbs are starting to regain color," Ben elaborated from his location next to Krit.

"Good," Zaan crouched low over them, causing Seth no small amount of annoyance and aggravation despite the fact he was the warmest he'd ever been all day.

Noise above them had the two fully aware transgenics jerking their heads upright just as a familiar figure began his descent.

"Zack," Ben had never been as happy to see their fearless leader as he was at that very moment.

"Ben," Zack's gaze swept him head to foot, ignoring his nakedness as he moved on to the rest of them, his gaze resting on the still unconscious Syl.

"What's wrong?" His question was terse, clipped, more of a command than an inquiry.

"Low body reserves," Zaan answered, almost positive he was correct. "She wasn't designed for cold weather missions."

Given what he did know about X5's, namely their abundance of feline DNA, he was betting Syl had been designed mostly with tropical and Sahara cats DNA. Probably lion, maybe some jaguar. She just didn't do cold well at all.

"Do you have a stretcher with you?" Zaan asked, getting to his feet.

"RC-5 has one," Zack replied, crouching over his men and running a soothing hand up Syl's side as he turned his questioning gaze to Seth.

"Sharing body temperature," Seth answered Zack's unspoken question. "She was turning blue and Zaan said this was the best way to raise it."

That meshed with the brief survival training briefings they'd undergone both back at the base and in the brief three hour training period that had been allotted to them by command.

Zack had heard some of the trainers talking about something called SERE training back at the base. Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape. Cutler had been talking to another Trainer about how they weren't slated to begin it until 2010 at the earliest.

They did Escape and Evade training all the time, though. Against Trainers, nomalies, and, most recently, other squads. They'd undergone Advanced Interrogation Resistance training and had been taught numerous techniques to both endure and forget what was being asked of them.

But this was their first foray into survival training. He only wished he'd done research into it before. Kneeling over Syl's unconscious form and Krit's barely conscious one, he felt like the worlds biggest failure.

"It's not your fault, kid," Bur knew what was going through the kids head – the same thing that went through every good commanders head when shit went wrong – I should have done something to prevent this.

"Lesson Number one about combat, kid: Shit happens." Bur placed a solid hand on the boy CO's shoulders and squeezed. "You can't stop it, you just have to roll with it."

"Roll with it?" Zack's lips were pale and it wasn't from the cold, but he tilted his head back anyways and blinked at Bur with open curiosity. Slang was the ultimate hobby for him and his X5's – they adored learning new words and phrases.

"Deal with it. Go with the flow. Keep on trucking," Bur's lips quirked upward as Zack, Seth, and Ben exchanged obviously confused looks.

"We've got incoming," Reem reported from where he hung, almost literally, near the top of the crevice.

"Everybody okay down there?" with X5 sensitive hearing, the three conscious transgenics could hear the question as if it were directed at them instead of just at Reem.

"They're all alive, Sir," Reem replied. "Bit banged up and bruised, but if we get them out of here soon, they should make."

"We're not going anywhere," Tran's grim faced appeared at the top of the crevice. "Storms blowing in; we wouldn't make it a foot before we were well and truly lost."

"What are your orders then?"

"Do what we can for the injured and bunk down for the duration of the storm. Radio silence was lifted a half an hour ago, but the comms are down so rescue ain't on its way. We're all alone out here."

Back at Manticore this would have been a dream come true for them; free from the boundaries and constraints of command, they could laugh, talk, and play to their hearts content.

Out here, though, with injured packmates still bleeding into the ice, it was their worst nightmare.

Counting his men as they carefully made their way down the crevice walls, Zack breathed out an unconscious sigh of relief as the last of them made it safely to the ground.

At least they were together.

* * *

"What do you mean you lost them?"

"The trackers crapped out on us ten minutes ago, sir. Big ass storm made them fucking useless."

"What the fuck was the point in spending millions on them if they weren't going to work, then?"

Lydecker was pissed, but the guy on the other end of the line was just about as angry, so they were dealing with each other just fine.

"Fuck it, sir. We got these trackers cheap; company wanted them tested in cold weather conditions without risking their own men."

"You're telling me I sent my best squad out there with GPS units that haven't been fucking proved to work?"

"I'm telling you that the Committee gave you GPS units with questionable capabilities and told you that you were cleared to go."

There were a whole slew of words Lydecker wanted to spout in the face of that bullshit, the least of which was fuckers, but he held his tongue.

Gunny was a goddamn good solider, one of the best; Lydecker wasn't going to unleash his considerable temper on the man out of respect of that fact and that fact alone.

"I've got men prepared to go out at the first sign of the storm clearing," Gunny continued on in the wake of Lydecker's silence. "Hopefully the ACC's can keep them alive until then."

"The AAC's?" Lydecker blinked at that; his orders had been for the ACC's to return to base at the three hour mark. "They're not on site?"

"AAC-1 is, sir, but AAC-2 hasn't reported in."

"Any chance they got lost in the snow?" Gunny snorted – actually _snorted _– at that.

"I've seen them in action, Sir. Snowstorms are a fucking walk in the park for them. They could navigate themselves through a blizzard; I've actually seen them do it. No, Sir, I'm guessing they decided to keep track of the X5's. Probably found a nice little cave to hunker down in for the night."

"I don't like probably. I want to know for sure. Get those fucking GPS units working and get them fucking working now!"

Gunny's 'Yes, Sir' was all but lost with the clicking sound of Lydeckers disconnect.

Goddamnit, Goddamnit, God-_fucking-_damnit!

Lydecker paced his office as he chanted his newly adopted mantra and kicked himself in righteous fury.

It was his fucking job to take care of his fucking men. Sending them into the freezing cold with only a few hours of survival training had been a test, designed specifically to prove their durability as combat soldiers in any weather conditions. He'd mistakenly assumed himself to be all-knowing in that aspect and he hadn't done more than the basics in prepping them, including their equipment.

He should have fucking known about the GPS units. He should have fucking known about the goddamn snow storm, and he should have fucking known all of this from the very fucking beginning.

One thing was for goddamn sure: heads were going to roll for this fuck-up.

Just as soon as he got his goddamn men back.

* * *

"Snows letting up," was Kaveri's cheerful call from near the top of the crevice. By Zack's count it had been nearly six hours since they'd hunkered down in the crack. It was a bit cramped but considering the temperatures, none of them were complaining.

Jondy and Sky had managed to rig up a splint for Krit's leg. He'd born the re-setting of the bone with one, short agonized cry around a mouthful of leather before his eyes had rolled up in his head and he'd sunk into blissful unconsciousness. The broken ribs he'd suffered had been carefully let alone – they couldn't risk wrapping them until they were sure he wasn't bleeding internally.

The rest of him was about as blue as the AAC's bruise wise, but his breathing was deep and even. He had yet to regain consciousness, but given the amount of pain he was obviously in, none of them were in any particular hurry to rush that particular endeavor. As long as he kept breathing…

Syl had regained consciousness. Bundled back up in her gear, she huddled between Max and Switch, her expression mutinous and bit shamefaced at having been so weakened by the cold.

Seth had already reassured her that what had happened – from the fall to her brief slip into a comatose state – hadn't been her fault in the least, but she was obviously still blaming herself.

Ben was doing okay – his concussion was the lightest injury in the grand scheme of things and he was dealing with it just fine, his nose buried lightly in Jondy's exposed neck as he breathed evenly in sleep.

"Up," Zack ordered, his words soft, but the command echoing through the small space, startling even the AAC's – occupying one half while the X5's occupied the other – out of their drowses.

"Moving out in ten," he ordered briskly, surveying his squad as they scrambled to assemble. To the untrained observer it was chaos – to Zack and the AAC's, it was the purest of orders.

"The GPS units back online yet?" Tran asked, stretching as he approached his comms officer, Lila.

"Some of them might be," Lila replied, checking both her own and Tran's before moving around the small space to check the others.

They only needed one active, but it was still an overwhelming relief to discover that three quarters of their supply still functioned and were currently sending out a strong signal.

Ten minutes later they emerged from the crevice to the all-too familiar whine of an overhead chopper.

"You think it's friendly?" Bur asked in a half-rasped as he lifted a hand to his face to deflect some of the snow the choppers blades were kicking up.

Tran ignored the joke, his focus on the window. But with the sunlight glinting off of it, reflected by the pure white snow, he couldn't see jack shit from his angle.

"Kid," he called to Zack. They referred to all of the other X5's by name, but the command staff was always kid to the AAC's. Tran couldn't really justify it much beyond the fact that staring into Zack's eyes, he saw all of his dreams and hopes still there. Tran and his squad had become so jaded in their brief lives, it was both refreshing and heart-breaking to see such hope and soul in the young X5's eyes'.

"What do you see?"

The AAC's had been designed primarily for cold-weather missions, obviously, but because of their abundance of cold-weather friendly DNA, they had a lack in certain areas. Eyesight was one of them. They had a sense of smell, though, that could detect a fish through two feet of ice, which did no help in this instance. Tran wasn't getting anything off the pilot except grease and sweat.

"Friendlies," Zack announced after a moment of careful scrutiny. "I recognize one of the men. Gunny."

"Gunny?" Tran knew who Gunny was; decent guy with a hell of a right hook. He liked Gunny, and the fact that Gunny would be out looking for them made him like him all the more.

"You all here?" Were the first words Gunny spoke after emerging from the helicopter.

"All present and accounted for, Sir," Tran, as the highest ranking officer in the field, replied for all of them. "We've got injured, though. Possible internal bleeding."

"Well, hell, boy. Get him inside and we'll fly him back. Pick up for the rest of you is five clicks out and coming fast."

Watching the helicopter fly away with Syl and Krit on board, Zack waited until it was out of visual range to turn to Tran.

"Thank you, Sir," he stated, his words clear and concise as he stared Tran dead in the eye.

Tran kept his face carefully blank in the face of Zack's gratitude.

"What are you thanking me for, kid? I nearly got you killed."

"No," Zack spoke the one word with absolute surety. "You saved our asses. We owe you."

Tran didn't know how much value a favor from an X5 would have, but the gesture actually had him damn near joking up.

"Fine," was all he said, though, because to say anything else would have been a lie.

"Fine," Zack echoed, nodding his head once, as if sealing the favor into permanent record, before turning back to his men.

"He's gonna make one hell of a commanding officer," Kah noted quietly as the AAC's assembled a few feet away from the X5's.

"Nah, Kah," Tran spoke, his expression and his words oddly contemplative as he watched Zack. "He already is. He's only gonna get better."

"Like I said," Kah repeated with a grim smile. "He's gonna make one hell of a commanding officer."

A/N: REVIEW...please.


	4. Chapter 4

**October, 2008**

It'd been a terrible day, one of the worst so far. They'd just gotten back from a training exercise against an X4 unit.

It'd been a bloody massacre, on both sides. Over half their pack had been taken out by the rubber bullets, designed to incapacitate and, as a bonus, hurt like hell.

Covered in dirt and bleeding from the bullets and the underbrush, Squad 3 trudged into the locker room in low spirits.

They'd been chewed out by the Colonel for failing to live up to expectations and, as a result, they had been out late doing punishments.

Stripping out of sweat and blood sodden fatigues, Max let the lukewarm water from the showerhead hit her face and sighed.

There were thirty-two showerheads, designed so that each member of the squad could have their own, but the twenty-six of them crowded under seven, circling and brushing against each other for comfort.

Sky and Jondy, the two of them that excelled the most at Field Combat Medicine, circled the room, checking out various injuries, making sure they were clean. The chances of any of them getting an infection were slim to none, but still, it was a comforting gesture.

"You alright, Maxie?" Ben ran his hand up her back, the contact making her close her eyes and breath out, relaxing into the familiar touch.

"Tired," she replied, a testament to just how rough the day had been.

Encircling the smaller transgenic in his arms, Ben closed his eyes and breathed in Max's calming scent, getting a nose full of water for his trouble.

A ringing peel of laughter emerged from Max's throat, drawing their squads attention to the two of them.

" 's not funny," Ben muttered sulkily as he coughed a few more times, rubbing his nose to get rid of the excess water-produced mucus.

"But it is snot," Jondy pointed out, eliciting another round of barely muffled giggles from the rest of them.

Annoyed up with being the butt of the joke, Ben wasted no time in scooping a handful of suds off of Kavi, who protested lightly at having his bubble burst, so to speak, and blowing them straight into Jondy's face.

Retaliating in kind, Jondy quickly drew the rest of the squad into the fight, the whole of them dancing on light feet throughout the showers, laughing and smiling.

It was a nice way to end a bad day.

Too tired to do much talking, the X5's slunk to their designated sleeping areas.

Syl crawled into her rack, Krit right behind her.

Becca fell into her rack, letting out a muffled cry of protest as Austin unceremoniously pulled her from her rack into his. Her cry quickly subsided as she snuggled her nose into where Austin's neck met his shoulder, inhaling his scent for comfort and peace as she quickly fell asleep.

Max already had her eyes closed when two bodies inserted themselves on either side of her. Her nostrils flared as she quickly identified Ben and Jondy.

Rolling from her back to her side to make room, she placed her arms around the X5 in front of her, a quick sniff identifying Ben. Jondy echoed the gesture behind her, slinging her arm around Max so the three of them were effectively spooning.

Tinga and Brin curled around Kavi, Eva and Jack slept back to back. Vada slid her way into Seth's rack, ignoring his faint cry of protest as she pushed and shoved him into a position that was comfortable for her

Coop and Trip wrestled their way onto an empty rack, tussling a bit before effectively falling asleep mid-motion.

Blue slept with Jace next to him, flat on his stomach, one arm slung over Jace's midsection as she fell asleep flat on her back.

Loath to lie alone but not exactly patient, Switch blinked over at Hawk a couple of times, smiling internally as he let out a sigh before leaving his own rack and crawling into hers.

Mercy slept curled around Zane, with Zack pressed against her back to back.

The final three curled up in a tangle of limbs. Cheyenne and Sean slept face to face with Sky curled around her back.

They were spread out in small pockets throughout the room, but they could hear each breath, each heartbeat, like everyone else was right next to them.

They slept through the night like that, as at peace with the world as they were ever going to get.

* * *

Zack's eyes were the first to snap open, the cadence of multiple pairs of unfamiliar boots hitting the floor, heading this way.

"Wake!" Came his quietly hissed command.

The rest of his squad snapped awake instantly, most of them exchanging confused looks at the abrupt wake-up.

The older one's picked up on what was wrong almost immediately. Vada practically jumped off of Seth's rack, scrambling for her own, catching an equally frantic Sean as he stumbled and giving him a not-so-gentle shove to his own bed two racks over.

Eva and Jack separated, with Jack quietly slipping into his rack, helping Jondy from Max's rack into her own. Ben scrambled around Eva, Zane crawled over Zack, and Mercy came to a sliding fall into her own rack.

It was a mad dash, but by the time their bay door slammed open, every X5 was where they were supposed to be and doing and excellent job of feigning sleep.

"On Your Feet!" Came the echoing cry. Twenty six sets of bare feet hit the linoleum as one.

"Congratulations, Squad 3! You've been tasked with a very important mission!" They recognized the Trainer, Staff Sergeant PJ Cutler, from a previous training mission. He was tough but fair and consequently well-liked and respected by Zack, which spoke volumes to the rest of the squad.

"Woodland Fatigues, full combat gear. Assemble on Tarmac B in fifteen. MOVE!"

"Yes, Sir!" Cutler exited the room as quickly and abruptly as he'd entered, leaving twenty-six small soldiers behind.

"That was close," Cheyenne breathed, relaxing from the at-attention posture and rubbing her sweating palms against her gown.

"Very," Coop agreed as he set about getting ready.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, on the dot, twenty-six soldiers stood on the tarmac, soaked to the skin and barely resisting the urge to shiver.

Years of training and their advanced genetics were little match against good old mother nature. It was forty-two degree Fahrenheit, but with the driving rain coming in from the mountains, it felt like it was below freezing.

Staff Sergeant Cutler paced in front of them in a poncho, pitching his voice several decibels louder than normal to be heard over the whistling wind.

"You have been given intel on a possible terrorist base located somewhere in these mountains," Cutler waved his hand to the side to indicate the range he was speaking of.

"Unfortunately, before your intel could be completed, your inside man was discovered. Your job is to locate the base, the weapons cache the terrorists were assembling, and your inside man. You will confirm the weapons cache through pictorial means using this digital camera." Cutler held up the object before handing it to a junior Trainer who wordlessly moved to place the camera in Zack's pack.

"You will then download the facilities database onto this disc." The same junior Trainer took the disc and placed it into Eva's pack.

"At the same time you will locate, retrieve, and protect with your life, if necessary, the inside man. He is your number one priority. He knows names, faces, buildings, targets. He's shaken hands with Bin Laden himself. He knows things, necessary things, that are not in that database. You will bring him back." Cutler's eyes scanned their ranks, his piercing gaze driving his point home: you will bring him back…or else.

They were intimately familiar with the 'or else' part of the equation. 'Or else' meant pain, suffering, and praying for it to end, knowing that it wasn't going to.

"Once you have the data and your man, clear out. Do you understand, soldiers?"

"Yes, SIR!"

"Can I get a Hoo-rah?"

"Hoo-RAH Staff Sergeant!"

"Excellent. You have twelve hours. Move out!"

* * *

It took them three hours of combing the mountain to locate the base.

They set up a temporary command post about three clicks south-southwest and hunkered down while Zack and Eva divvied up assignments.

Eva would lead a four man team in search of their inside man. Ben, Max, and Blue would go with her.

Seth would lead the search for the weapons along with Austin, Becca, and Switch.

Mercy and Kavi were in charge of information retrieval.

Krit, Syl, Tinga, Brin, Cheyenne, and Trip would provide an inside overwatch for the X5's doing information retrieval.

Zack, Hawk, Jondy, Sky, Sean, Jace, Vada, Zane, Coop, and Jack were outer perimeter defense.

They would breach their selected targets in teams of two.

Eva paired with Blue, leaving Ben and Max to combine their 'super powers' to make, essentially, the perfect predator.

Seth paired with Switch, knowing instinctively that Austin's glib attitude would do nothing except irritate the prickly female. Austin, for his part, let it be known through body language and an arm slung casually over her shoulder that Becca was going to be his partner.

Mercy and Kavi were a given, as were Krit and Syl. Cheyenne and Trip eyed each other for a moment, ending their pseudo inspection with almost identical faint smiles. Tinga and Brin wordlessly moved to stand next to each other.

Zack paired Coop with Hawk, knowing that Hawk's steady nature would counteract Coop's flightly one. Jondy and Sky were their resident medics, which meant that they were split up, Jondy with Zane and Sky with Vada. He couldn't risk losing them both in one fell swoop should something happen.

Jack was paired with Sean, leaving Zack with level-headed Jace.

Zack took the north scouting position with Jace about twenty feet to his left, lying on her belly in the dirty as she stared through the scope of her rifle at the ground below.

"We've got seven on the north side," she reported down the comms, her voice soft, barely audible even to their super sensitive hearing.

"We've got nine," Jondy reported from her position East.

"Six on the Southeast," Vada reported.

"Five on the Southwest," Jack reported softly.

"And we've got eight on the West side," Hawk finished.

"Weapons?"

"Small arms only," Jace reported. "Biggest threat looks like a…AK-47."

"Same here," Jondy reported.

Overall, each guard had about three semi automatics on their persons, not including the Uzi's and AK's strapped on like fashion accessories.

They relayed their information to the breach teams, who devised appropriately strategies to get around them.

* * *

Listening to Jace relay all their information down the line, Eva motioned for her team to follow her.

Slinking through the underbrush, their sleek forms were far more reminiscent of their animal ancestry than their human appearance.

Going over the layout, crouched over their own little map in the dirt, Eva used hand signals and finger pointing to indicate their plan.

They'd breach as the Southwest entrance; the layout best indicated that that was where prisoners were located. Max and Ben would take point, with Eva and Blue watching all of their sixes.

* * *

On the other side of the compound, Seth was crouched in a similar position, his attention divided between the map on the ground and the compound just outside of the woods.

They watched for about an hour as men entered and exited the compound, taking careful note of who went where with what, identifying the weapon's hut by the simple fact that men went in with guns and came out without them.

It wasn't exactly an ideal situation; the weapons cache appeared to be located right in the middle of the compound.

They needed pictures and only had one camera so splitting up wasn't an option. Figuring out their best point of entry, Seth took point with Switch, carefully stowing the camera so he knew exactly where it was and so that it wasn't going to slip and fall out of his pack or somewhere would it take a while to find.

* * *

Krit and Syl took point while Cheyenne and Trip took rear, Tinga and Brin moving to either side of Kavi and Mercy, all three pairs carefully guarding the fourth, their information specialists Mercy and Kavi. Krit was given command of the group as well as the disc, which he quickly passed along to Kavi, who quickly tucked it into one of the many side pockets on his BDU's.

* * *

Sitting on the high ground, watching the rest of his squad move, Zack's body went on full alert as the first of his pack breached the facility.

Though taught to believe otherwise, Zack couldn't stop himself from wishing them luck as he settled in to watch and wait.

* * *

Pressing back against the tiled ceiling, Eva kept her breathing slow and even as she waited patiently for the ordinaries to pass underneath her.

They'd surprised the X5's as much as they could, emerging from a doorway. Eva barely had time to jump, let alone secure her current precarious position without making a noise.

Ben and Max had separated, moving to a separate section of this branch of the facility in search of their target. Blue had ducked into a doorway, blending effortlessly into the shadows, just like they'd been taught.

Five ordinary soldiers rounded the corner, and two extraordinary one's let out barely audible sighs.

"Okay?" Blue asked quietly, expression concerned as Eva landed soundlessly next to him, her face a tense mask of barely concealed pain.

"Fine," Eva replied, somewhat shortly since she wasn't, in fact, fine. She was pretty sure she'd broken a couple of fingers in her haste to get a good hold on the ceiling.

Switching the grip on her rifle to compensate, she motioned Blue forward, biting her lip to resist the urge to whimper.

Pain was pain, no matter how high your threshold, you still felt it.

Across the way, Ben and Max were borderline frustrated.

Glancing over at Ben, they shared a moment of pure understanding, teeth bared. They were the predators and the fact that their prey was eluding them incited a whole new level of frustration and irritation.

Ducking down the last hallway before the intersection where they'd meet up with Eva and Blue, Max's sensitive ears picked up the all-to familiar sound of flesh hitting flesh.

Ahead of her, Ben motioned for her to pause, holding up his right arm, fist closed. Looking over his shoulder and catching her eye, he motioned toward the door. Max nodded, indicating that she heard it to.

Crouching low and keeping to the shadows, Ben adjusted his hearing to pick up on what was being said.

"Where's the base?" Was the rumbling question.

"Don't…know," came the wheezing reply from someone who'd obviously broken one rib too many. Fist met flesh in a sickening thud and a low groan echoed in their ears.

"Where's the base?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," their target uttered, pure anguish in his tone. Nostrils flaring, Max could make out the familiar coppery scent of blood as well as the salty tinge of tears.

"Where's the _fucking _base, Anderson?" Nothing but incoherent mumblings greeted that.

"Fucking useless prick," a third party muttered. Ben winced as he heard a boot connect with flesh, their target, Anderson, letting out a loud groan, his clothes dragging against the floor as he curled in on himself.

"Leave him," the first man stated, his booted feet loud in their sensitive ears as he headed for the door. "We'll talk later."

Moving silently back, Ben and Max ducked into an empty room, shutting the door softly behind them as they listened for the footsteps to leave.

Tapping Max on the shoulder, Ben motioned for her to radio their coordinates to Eva and Blue.

They were just finishing with their section of the building when the faint crackle of the comms had Eva reaching up, instinctively cupping her hand over her ear to make the sound easier to hear since the volume leveled out just a notch above its lowest setting.

_{Alpha Two, this is Beta-Three, we have located the target. Repeat, we have located the target.} _

Glancing up to make sure Blue had heard, she caught his nod of acknowledgement before motioning him forward.

_{Relay the coordinates, Beta-Three.}_

Max quickly gave them directions. A light knock on the door echoed a few moments later and Ben silently hauled the door open, ushering the other two X5's in before closing the door.

"Status?" Eva asked, standing at the ready, finger on the trigger guard as she waited for the report.

"Badly beaten, possible internal injuries," Max reported.

"Can he be transported?" Max and Ben exchanged a look that said it all.

"We're gonna have to risk it," Blue murmured. It was a no-win situation if he died; even though it wasn't their fault, they'd still be punished.

"Can we rig up transportation?" Eva asked, hand tapping her thigh in a nervous rhythm as she frowned.

"There's got to be transportation around here somewhere," Ben murmured, causing the other three X5's to jerk their heads his way.

Eyeing Ben thoughtfully, Eva tapped her mic, indicating that she had something direct for Zack's ears.

_{Alpha-One}_ Zack came on the line.

_{This is Alpha-Two requesting information.}_

There was the quiet hiss of static as Zack frowned and looked over at Jace who shrugged a shoulder, indicating that she couldn't think of a reason for the radio call either.

_{Go}_

Eva let her breath out in a quiet hiss as she relayed her request.

_{How bad are the internal injuries?}_ Zack asked after a moments pause.

Eva glanced over and Ben and Max.

_{Bad}_ Ben reported down the line. _{Broken ribs, punctured lung, possibly a concussion and almost definitely internal bleeding, over}_

Zack bit his tongue to keep from swearing.

_{Foxtrot-Five, this is Alpha-One. Come in, Foxtrot-Five, over}_

_{Foxtrot-Five here}_ Zane's voice came on the line. Of all the X5's under his command, Zane showed the most promise with diagnostics and repair. While all of them were more than capable of stealing the necessary equipment, Zane would have the best idea of what, exactly, they should be stealing.

_{Grab Foxtrot-One and report to CP, over}_

_{Understood, over}_

_{Foxtrot-Two, Foxtrot-Three, Foxtrot-Six, and Foxtrot-Seven, move positions approximately 45 degrees east of your current positions. Confirmation requested, over}_

_{This is Foxtrot-Two, Foxtrot-Six and I are on the move, over}_

_{Foxtrot-Three here, me and Seven are gone, over}_

Satisfied that he had a team heading this way and that the others had moved to cover the space left by their absence, he focused his attention back to Eva's situation.

_{Alpha-Two, I'm sending Foxtrot-Five and Foxtrot-One on that retrieval operation. Wait until team is in place to retrieve the target, over}_

_{Understood. Alpha-Two out}_

Zane appeared in the tree line, with Jondy ghosting along behind him. Giving them a quick, two minute assessment of the situation, Zane was already nodding by the time he explained what he wanted.

"I saw a Fast Attack ATV in their transportation hub. That should work."

"Good. Contact me when you get there then wait for further instruction before doing anything. Understood?"

"Understood," Zane offered him a half-assed salute, grinning and turning to disappear back into the trees. Jondy rolled her eyes and gave Zack a proper salute before disappearing after him.

Two minutes later, Zane came on the line.

_{Alpha-One, this is Foxtrot-Five. We are in position, over} _Good. Zack turned his attention to Eva's team.

_{Alpha-Two, you are a go. I repeat, you are a go, over}_

_{Roger that, Alpha-One}_

Motioning for Blue to stand to the right of the door, she took up her position on the left, Ben pressed against her back, Max behind him as Blue peaked out the door, visually confirming what his ears were already telling him.

Motioning for Eva to move, he waited for Ben then Max to pass before following.

Moving to point, Ben effortlessly led them back to the door, listening for a moment before holding up two fingers, indicating that there were two guards inside with the target.

Their eyes turned to Eva, who frowned. There was no back entrance, at least not one they could get access to. They would have to go in the front door, so to speak. Unless…

Tapping Blue on the shoulder, she pointed upwards, motioning for him to kneel down and boost her up. She could make the jump on her own, easy, but the whole point of this mission was subtlety. An X5 shaped hole in the ceiling was a far cry from subtle.

Boosting her up, Eva pushed up on a tile, grinning as it popped up. Moving it to the side, she pulled herself up with her arms and, reaching down, pulled Blue up after her. Head hanging out of the hole in the ceiling, she quickly motioned for Max and Ben to stand guard and wait for their signal.

Pulling herself inside the dark, slightly musty and extremely dusty space, she quickly replaced the tile, taking a brief moment to orientate herself before crawling to the room.

Head placed against the ceiling, she slowed her breathing, slowed her heart rate so she could hear more clearly what was going on below her.

Her first priority was ascertaining that the target was still alive. His breathing sounded haggard and wet, but he was still breathing.

Next, she listened for the guards, locking eyes with Blue in an identical position facing her. She gave him her coordinates for the guards and he confirmed with his own estimates.

Slowly, careful not to make a noise, she lifted the tile out and to the side over her intended target.

Locking gazes with Blue, she held up her three smallest fingers, slowly lowering them. When the last one went down, so did she, jumping through the hole and right on top of her intended target.

She hit him between the vertebrate, knocking him unconscious almost immediately. He hit the floor with a dull thud, echoed milliseconds later by Blue's man.

Crouching low over the body, Eva listened carefully for signs that they were discovered, but aside from the heartbeats of the rooms occupants and Max and Ben outside, she heard nothing.

Motioning for Blue to let Max and Ben in, she slipped silently over to the target, kneeling next to him and checking his pulse.

It was there, but barely.

"We've got to move," Eva was already moving to his head, reaching down to lift up his arms when Ben's head shot up, followed almost immediately by Max's.

"How many?" Eva asked, not bothering to ask them what was going on. Only one thing would put that look of alarm on their faces, especially during a mission.

"Seven," Ben stated.

"Eight," Max corrected, frowning, her face pinched in concentration. Ben tilted his head to the side and listened for another second before nodding.

"Eight," he agreed, turning to Eva.

"Radio command," she ordered. "Tell them our position has been compromised and that we're moving towards Foxtrot-Five. Blue."

Blue grabbed the guys feet while Eva gripped him by the shoulders, the two of them lifting his dead weight with a faint grunt. If he were conscious, it would probably only take one of them to move him.

"Max, take point. Ben, cover the rear. Let's move."

* * *

Zack swore as reports came in, rapid fire.

Eva's team was under fire, with Eva herself having taken a hit in the shoulder. He could feel Zane and Jondy, the closest X5's, chomping at the bit in the eagerness to go and aid their packmates.

_{Alpha-One, this is Foxtrot-Two, we've got incoming}_

_{Report!} _Zack barked, motioning for Jace to be alert and ready to move if necessary.

_{Reinforcements} _came Vada's grim reply. _{I count two dozen, at least}_

_{Foxtrot-Three, can you confirm?}_

_{Roger that, Alpha-One. I confirm. Final count…twenty-seven incoming Tango's}_

Jack's voice was unusually grim for the normally light hearted transgenic. Of course, his sister was pinned down inside the very place those reinforcements were heading towards.

_{Alpha-Three, this is Alpha-One, I need a report}_

_{Alpha-One, this is Charlie-Two. We have accomplished the objective, over}_ Finally, some good news.

_{Move to incept Alpha-Two}_ Zack quickly relayed their coordinates. _{They're under heavy fire, with incoming hostiles and require assistance, over}_

_{Roger that, we're on our way}_

Seth secured the camera in his pack before motioning for Switch to follow him as he took point, Becca then Austin following quickly behind as they blurred toward Eva's last known location.

_{Alpha-Four, have you accomplished your objective?}_

_{Negative, Sir}_ came Mercy's haggard voice, immediately followed by gunfire and an abrupt scream.

_{Alpha-Four! Alpha-Four! Alpha-Five, report!}_

_{Alpha-Four is down, I repeat, Alpha-Four is down!}_ Krit yelled down the line, gun fire snapping at the heels of his words.

_{Report!}_ Zack barked.

Half a dozen voices started talking at once and he growled, actually _growled_ down the line, effectively shutting them all up.

"Jace, switch to channel 7. I'm gonna have Krit and Mercy relay information to you, then you're gonna relay it to me. Okay?" Jace stared up at him, wide brown eyes and soft, fuzzy black hair, expression frozen between fearful and dutiful.

Getting back on the line, Zack gave Krit the same instructions he'd given Jace, only in reverse.

He focused his attention then on the rest of the squad.

_{Alpha-Three, have you located Alpha-Two?}_

_{Affirmative, Sir. But they're pinned down pretty good}_

_{Can you breach?}_

_{Negative. There's no cover}_

_{Is there cover on the other side, over}_

Seth peaked his head around the corner of the hallway long enough to get a good look before Switch jerked him back, bullet striking the wall exactly where his head had been just moments before. Giving her a grateful look, he quickly relayed his findings to Zack.

* * *

Listening to Seth's report, as well as Blue's half-yelled demands for assistance, Zack wanted to do nothing else but race down there himself and rip the throats out of those who dared threaten his pack.

Jace was looking at him again, even as she relayed information, her expression running the gauntlet from fearful, to concerned, to the standard 'mission-ready' face they all wore on occasion.

_{Alright, here's what we're going to do. Foxtrot-Three and Foxtrot-Seven, move to rendezvous with Foxtrot-Five and Foxtrot-One. Foxtrot-One and Foxtrot-Three will then proceed to Alpha-Two's current location where they will lay down cover fire and extract Alpha-Two's team. Alpha-Three will proceed immediately to Alpha-Five's location in an effort to hold the intelligence room for however long it takes for Delta-One to finish the objective}_

Zack barely paused to take a breath as he plowed on.

_{Foxtrot-Five, as soon as you make contact with Foxtrot-Three, you are to arrange for transportation. The second the target is on board, you will proceed to the final rendezvous.}_

_{Foxtrot-Six and Foxtrot-Two separate to cover the open space left by Foxtrot-Three and Foxtrot-Six. Foxtrot-Four and Foxtrot-Eight, move to cover Foxtrot-Five's extraction. Understood?}_

A rousing chorus of 'Yes, Sir's' greeted his statement as his soldiers moved to do just that.

* * *

It was stupid; he should have been paying better attention. They'd reached Eva's team, laying down cover fire as they ushered the four other transgenics and one ordinary human down the hall.

Jack had been focused on the task, his sense hyper-alert to the oncoming enemy forces, when a bullet whizzed right by his head.

He heard a pained grunt behind him and turned to see Eva on the ground, her entire right side a bloody mess as a second bullet went through her shoulder.

"Eva!" Came Max's fearful cry as the X5 female instinctively moved to aid her fallen sister.

Whirling around as Max went sliding to the ground behind him, Jack let his attention waver just a second too long.

"JACK!" Ben practically roared, moving forward as Jack fell backwards.

It was like the world had slowed down; one minute Jack was standing in front of them, slowly moving back with them as they retreated to relative safety, the next, he was falling, falling, falling…

"How bad is it?" Ben asked as Jondy went to her knees next to him.

A cursory, five second investigation, and her solemn eyes said it all. Jack wasn't going to make it if they didn't get the hell out of there.

Behind them, Eva stared in horror at the unmoving body of her twin, her attention turning to where Blue was doing his best to drag their target down the hall while firing as best he could at the oncoming enemy.

"Help him," she instructed Max, nodding to Blue. Wordlessly she obeyed, her instincts dictating that she protect her pack, her training telling her to obey her XO's orders.

Sliding through a trail of her own blood, Eva went stumbling to one knee next to Jack, reaching with her uninjured left hand to grab and hoist Jack over one shoulder. Jondy quickly inserted her own slight frame on Jack's opposite side as they continued their backwards trek.

* * *

"Incoming," Zane murmured, raising his M16 as he sighted down the long barrel, counting as his siblings made their way past. He had the ATV started and ready to go. With Sean's help, he'd even managed to rig up a make-shift stretcher to secure the target's unconscious body in.

"Zane!" Blue yelled.

"Here!" Zane called back, firing six rapid fire shots at the approaching enemy before pressing the button to close the doors and slinging his rifle over his shoulder and moving to assist.

The acrid stench of gunpowder and blood seared his nostrils and his gaze dropped to the rapidly paling Jack.

"Is he…" His throat closed as he stared at his brother.

"He's not dead," Jondy asserted quickly. "Not yet. Neither of them are. But if we don't get them," she indicated both Jack and their target, "off the mountain quick, they will be."

Wordlessly Zane strapped the target in, helping Blue hoist Jack up next to him before looking over at them, his desire to stay and fight readily apparent.

"GO!" Eva ordered, slapping the rear of the vehicle with her good hand.

She watched as the vehicle rounded the bend and went tearing down the trail before looking up the mountain to where Zack had told the rest of them to meet.

"Come on," she ordered, listening to the sound of the enemy pounding at the closed doors. "Let's get the hell out of here."

* * *

Krit wished like hell they could get out of here. Things had gone to shit so fast, he'd barely had time to blink.

Once second, they were alone, the next, the enemy was crawling out from under the fucking floor.

The fucking _floor_!

Mercy had been the first to spot them, her rapid draw taking out two before a third hit her, high in the chest.

She'd gone down and hadn't moved. When Kavi had moved to assist her, Krit had reacted.

"Finish the mission!" He ordered, voice gruff as he opened fire on the incoming hostiles while simultaneously reporting events in real time to Jace on the other end of his comms.

When Zack had come on the line, issuing orders calm and sure, he'd felt some of his tension dissipate. He had faith in Zack; Zack would know what to do.

* * *

Seth heard the gunfire long before he saw anything, his medium sized form a blurred streak as he skidded into the wall just outside the intelligence room where the database retrieval team was pinned down.

Peeking around the door, he could make out the various forms of his siblings and packmates as the enemy soldiers fired on them, effectively pinning them in a semi-circle and cutting off all possible exits.

Seth signaled for Becca and Austin to move left while he and Switch took right, further signaling for them to hold their positions until he gave the signal.

Crouching low and out of the immediate line of fire, Seth poked his head around the doorway, catching the nearest X5's eye.

Kavi's eyes widened as Seth's face appeared around the doorway.

When Seth asked for mission status, Kavi's frantic gaze darted to Mercy's too still form to the computer just beyond that, where the download light was blinking at ninety percent.

It'd take another five minutes, at least, for it finish, meaning they had to endure at least five more minutes of this hell.

Those were five minutes Kavi wasn't sure Mercy had. Her pulse was weak and thready and with each passing second, he was more and more positive that the bullet had either nicked an artery or a lung.

_{Alpha-Five, this is Alpha-Three. We are moving to cover, over}_

Krit had never been happier to hear Seth's voice in his life as he was at that moment. With each passing minute and flying bullet, control of the situation slipped further and further from his fingers until he was just barely gripping it by his fingertips.

When Seth entered the fray, his deadly accuracy taking out five of the enemy hostiles in seconds, it gave Syl enough time to move from her piss poor cover, sliding across a bloody floor as Krit reached out and snatched her, pulling her close, his nostrils flaring and eyes going flat as the sadly familiar scent of Syl's blood flooded his senses.

His gaze dropped from the fire fight to her small form, searching for the wound, but she shook her head.

"Flesh wound," she called over the gunfire, showing him the graze on her upper arm.

By no means satisfied and getting more and more angry with each passing second, he bared his teeth and came up swinging.

* * *

_{Alpha-Three, report}_ Zack waited, tense, for Seth's voice down the line.

_{We're clear of the compound, Alpha-One}_ Seth reported, sounding both relieved and pissed off. _{We'll be at the rendezvous in ten. Have Sky waiting}_

That Seth would slip up and use Sky's name instead of his callsign had Zack's gut clenching.

_{Understood. Foxtrot-Six?}_

_{On my way, Sir}_

Sky moved through the woods on quick feet, his sensitive hearing picking up the many sounds of the forest, ranging from enemy patrols, to the familiar treads of his siblings as they moved toward the rendezvous.

He knew Jack was down, but Zane had hauled his ass and their targets down the mountain. Eva's team was right behind him, Blue, Jondy, Max, Ben, and Eva's scents all in his nose, so that eliminated them.

That left Seth's team and Krit's.

He was young, but he wasn't stupid. Images of his siblings dying flashed through his head, trying to psych him out, but he pushed it aside. He would do what he had to do and make damn sure that whoever it was survived, because losing another sibling was not an option.

He arrived just in time to see Seth deposit an unconscious and heavily bleeding Mercy on a hastily constructed bed of fatigue jackets and a rucksack.

"Move!" He snapped, when his siblings moved in too close. They stepped back, circling them as he reached for the front of her jacket, yanking it open before quickly and effectively ripping the shirt down the middle so he could get at the wound.

Lifting her slightly to confirm that the bullet had gone through, he placed his head to her chest and listened closely.

It took a few seconds to filter his hearing beyond just her heartbeat but…._there!_

"Punctured lung," he stated tersely. "I need some IV tubing."

He had some in his hands milliseconds later. Working his way down her rib cage, he paused when he located the right rib and quickly, without pause, jammed the needle between the ribs.

"I need a water bottle." Seth held one up.

"Put the other end of the tubing in it. Her lungs are filling up with blood and we need to filter."

"She needs blood," Jondy stated, already pulling the IV tubing from her own bag.

"We need to move," Zack stated, interrupting all of them.

"Seth, Sky, can you carry her?" He nodded his head to Mercy.

"Yeah," Seth replied, voice choked as he watched Mercy's chest rise and fall, his own breath freezing in the moments between each inhale and exhale, half expecting her to just…stop.

"Alright. Jondy, you give the first transfusion. I'll go next. Max, Ben, help Eva."

They made their way down the mountain, a slow, labor intense process. By rights, Mercy should have died on the way down, but she didn't.

When they finally reached base to find a trembling, barely conscious, strung out Zane standing on the tarmac waiting for them, they heaved out a universal sigh of relief.

Mercy was rushed away, with Eva quickly following. Syl was next, than Austin, who had caught a bullet high on the shoulder on the way out.

It was three hours later when all members of Squad 3 that could walk were escorted back to their barracks, with Zack quietly escorted to a conference room to await his debriefing.

* * *

"They did good." Colonel Donald Michael Lydecker, Lydecker to those of equal rank, the Colonel to everyone else, didn't need some barely-out-of-diapers subordinate telling him his kids did good.

They always did good, hell, they did better than good.

They won, hands down, flat out, every time. Failure was not part of their vocabulary.

Annihilation was more their style.

The Colonel had been aware of this particular mission for some time, but the opportunity to deploy his squad to take care of the militia that had taken up residence in the mountains bordering the compound had not arisen until those stupid fucks had kidnapped a Manticore tech and tried to make him talk.

They had yet to figure out where their initial intel had come from, but the clean-up crew of Manticore regular soldiers was bringing back survivors for interrogation, so it was only a matter of time.

"The two that were critically injured?" It was a genuine question; the Colonel was about as fond of these kids as someone in his position could get. It would sadden him to have lost one on their first official mission.

"633's going to make it," came the quick report. "The damage wasn't nearly as severe as 205 had indicated."

"And 417?"

"Unlikely."

The Colonel took a deep breath through his nose and let it out on a sigh.

Squad 3 had already lost six members and though he wasn't keen on losing a seventh, 417 was an acceptable loss. He was a good soldier, steady, but the Colonel could name a couple dozen other X5's off the top of his head that were more qualified and better at what they did than the blond haired, blue eyed boy from Squad 3.

"Is there any damage to any organs other than the heart?"

"No, Sir." The Colonel nodded.

"If he flatlines, harvest him. Is 599 waiting in the conference room?" The Colonel turned from the window where he'd been watching the X6's train in the yard below, the abrupt change in subject causing his subordinate to blink a couple of times.

The Colonel's lips twisted downward as he regarded the fuckwit, not even bothering to hide his disdain.

"Uh, yes, Sir." Looking around the idiot and catching the eye of one of the Trainer's in the doorway, he tilted his head in the direction of the subordinate as he walked past, his message clear: get rid of him before I get back.

* * *

"You did excellent for your first mission, X5-599," the Colonel leaned back in his chair and regarded the young soldier in front of him with pride.

Zack kept his gaze steady on the wall behind the Colonel, his brain working rapid fire.

He hadn't misheard, Lydecker had called that fucking disaster their first mission. Which meant he'd sent them in there, knowing full well that those were genuine hostiles, not just Manticore guards 'playing'.

He kept his body deceptively relaxed, but if there was a way he could have gotten away with it, he definitely would have been over that table and snapping Lydecker's neck in a heartbeat.

"X5-633 is in recovery, and 766 should be rejoining your squad tomorrow. 353 is you temporary SIC until then. Your Squad is waiting for you in your bay. You're to resume your normally scheduled activities. Dismissed."

Zack hesitated for just a moment, but the Colonel noticed. He noticed everything.

"Is there a problem, soldier?"

"Sir! May I request as to the status of X5 Unit 4-1-7?" The Colonel studied X5-599 carefully for a long, tense moment. Was that _concern_ on the kids face?

As quickly as the emotion had appeared, it disappeared, leaving the Colonel to wonder if he saw it all.

"4-1-7 has been damaged beyond repair. He will not be returning to your Squad. Dismissed."

_There!_

The Colonel didn't blink, didn't miss the slightly shaky salute, or the flash of grief, however brief, that decorated 599's face.

599 exited quickly after his shaky-ass salute, leaving a frowning Colonel behind. Leaning back in his chair and flipping a pen over his fingers, the Colonel contemplated this newest possibility.

Where his kids, his perfect, cold-blooded killers, actually developing _feelings_?

* * *

"_No, No, NO!_" Eva moaned low in her throat, head turned and buried in the pillow as she struggled against her bindings.

"She's lost a lot of blood," someone was saying. "And I think she's concussed."

"Best to keep her strapped down," the second voice stated. "Fucking animals don't know better than to bite the hand that takes care of them."

Eva recognized him as one of the nastier Med techs, a real asshole if she'd ever met one and she'd met plenty.

The first person let out a hearty laugh.

"Aww, Peters, don't tell me you're still sore about that X5 attacking you last week?"

"Damn bitch almost ripped my head off," Peters groused, tightening the restraint around Eva's wrist with a vicious tug.

A faint whimper escaped before she could stop it and she turned her head to find Peters smirking, satisfied.

_Sadist_.

She bared her teeth in an open snarl, her eyes feral. She inhaled his fear with primitive satisfaction, growling low in her throat and he and his bid a hasty retreat.

Her head immediately twisted to the right, her gaze directed to the curtains hiding her twin from her view as the docs worked to save him.

"…not breathing! Get me a crash cart!"

"No!" Eva jerked upwards, ignoring the excruciating pain in her shoulder, pushing it back, back, back…

Nothing mattered but getting to her brother, letting him know that she was there, that she was fighting for him and that he needed to fight just as hard.

"Clear!"

A faint thud as his body jumped in reaction to the electricity flowing through him.

"No pulse. Again."

_JACK!_ Eva screamed silently, mouth open in a wild snarl as she yanked her uninjured wrist harder against the restraints.

_She had to get to Jack!_

"Again!"

_Come on, Jack! FIGHT!_

She was too far away! He couldn't sense her. She needed to get closer, but it was a little hard when she was _strapped down!_

"Call it. Time of death, 1628 hours."

"No!" By some act of some diety no one heard her rip her right hand free of restraints. She snapped her left hand out, heedless of the broken fingers, and quickly loosed her ankles, slipping from the bed and almost falling flat on her ass as her knees buckled, blood loss and trauma sending her for a loop.

"Alright. Stanton, get the paperwork. I'll get the body ready for harvest."

_NO!_

Stumbling along, holding the wall for support, Eva covered the distance separating her from her brother in a haze.

Pushing back the curtain separating them, she took in her brother lying on the table, his chest cracked open, the crash cart just to the right, the paddles haphazardly lain across it, and the tears that had been steadily running down her cheeks double-timed it.

"Jack," she moaned in physical and emotional agony. Gritting her teeth, she pushed off against the wall, her view going black for a few moments, her senses completely block.

_Focus!_

She blinked and breathed until gradually her vision returned, her hearing following. She was half leaning on the table, half leaning on her brother, as her legs wobbled.

"Come on, Jack, get your ass back here," she ordered, her voice choked as she stared down at his death-slackened face.

"You're my baby brother, Jack," she smoothed her hand down his arm, gripping his cold, limp hand in her own, ignoring the fact that the fingers on that hand were broken, and squeezed. Nothing.

_Try harder!_

"Come on, please, Jack. Please come back. I need you. _We_ need you. Who's gonna help keep Coop and Trip in line? You know Zack counts on you for that."

_There!_

She felt it, a faint line, a connection they'd shared since birth.

_Come on, come on._

"Come on, Jack. Come back. I can't do this without you, baby brother."

"What the- X5-766 what the hell are you doing?" Hands reached around, grabbing at her.

"NO!" Wrenching herself out of their grips, she threw herself back onto her brother.

"I'm here, I'm here, Jack," she whispered, voice low as she latched herself to the bed, snarling and snapping when an orderly made an attempt to move her again.

Said orderly quickly found himself on the other side of the room, bleeding heavily from a head wound, with no memory how he got there, and convinced that a truck had just run him over.

"Call the guards!" the head doctor ordered, taking several healthy steps back from the deceptively small hellcat.

"The harvest – " Eva snarled, turning on that tech, who almost shit himself at the look in her eyes.

Not even remotely satisfied with their distance, and knowing that the guards were on their way, Eva turned her attention back to the most important person in the room: her brother.

"I can feel you," she whispered, leaning over him and bending low so she could whisper directly in his ears. "You get your ass back here, or so help me – "

Guards poured into the room, tasers drawn, some of them staring, wide-eyed, at the infirmary, this being their first time in one of Manticores many Ors. The veterans, however, quickly zeroed in on the source of the disturbance. Their tasers were up, ready to fire, when…

"Stop!" Doctor Andre Davis had seen a lot of strange shit in his twenty-some years of being a doctor but this…

This was a fucking miracle.

"What the hell? We need to get her-"

"Shut up, Kilpatrick, and _look_!" Davis pointed to the monitor, the one hooked up to the kids heart, the one that was actually showing signs of a heartbeat. But 417 was supposed to be _dead._ He'd tried _seven _times to get the kids heart restarted and nothing.

_Closer, closer…_

"That's it, baby brother. That's it. Come on, you little twerp."

A deep, shuddering breath erupted and echoed throughout the room and, chest cracked open, in intense pain, and coming back from death itself, Jack cracked an eye open and locked in on his twin.

"Don't," he breathed. "Call. Me. Little."

"Jesus Christ," the one called Kilpatrick swore, moving forward only a few steps behind Davis and this time Eva let them.

"We've got a normal rhythm, steady pulse. Jesus." Kilpatrick ran a hand through his hair and shook his head.

"Alright, people, let's get him into surgery. Cayson! Banks! Take care of 766. Let's move, people!"

Eva let the techs lead her back to her bed, falling onto the mattress world weary and done, just flat out, done for the day.

"And there she goes," Banks watched 766's small form go completely limp and sighed, quickly and deftly redoing the IV she'd so effectively undone on her way to her twin.

"Freaky shit," was Cayson's grunted contribution. The two medics moved silently around the unconscious transgenic, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

* * *

"Report," the Colonel barked, face about as readable as a brick wall as he stood in the infirmary, waiting for the status on the injured X5 units.

One of the Med techs had shown up at his office, about a half an hour ago, mumbling about X5's bringing each other back from the dead, and something about a truck.

Since the man had obviously been suffering from a head injury, the Colonel had been fully prepared to write him off as delusional and call for a guard to remove his bleeding ass from his office, but then another, more calm and less concussed tech had entered and given him a better rundown on the SITREP.

Basically, 417 had been declared dead, the doctors had cleared the room in prep for harvesting when 766 somehow broke free of restraints put on her, unnecessarily, and made her way to her twins lifeless form.

"I was only gone for two minutes," Davis stated, looking haggard, hassled, and about twelve hours short of a five o'clock shadow, a rarity on the normally clean shaven man.

"I can't explain. He was dead. His heart wasn't beating, his brain patterns were flat, and three minutes later, 766 touches him, and he's back."

The Colonel turned his attention to the unconscious transgenic, regarding her thoughtfully for a moment.

"And 417? What's his status?"

"Stable," Davis reported, unable to keep the awe out of his voice. He'd seen some pretty weird shit since he started this job, but today…today moved past weird shit into the 'Act of God' category.

"It'll probably be a couple weeks, three at the minimum, but he should be fighting fit."

"Brain damage?"

"None that we can find," Davis reported with an easy sigh as he ran his hands through his hair again, a sign of frustration at not being able to give an actual name or scientific formula to what had just happened.

"As soon as you're able I want both of them transferred to the Neuro-Psych department."

"Sir? They're in no condition –"

"417 is alive," the Colonel interrupted. "And he damn well shouldn't be. I want to know what happened, and I want to know how. Transfer them to the Neuro-Psych department. Am I making myself clear?"

Cool blue eyes regarded him with patience and, for a moment, Davis found himself staring at a true predator. He was nothing to this man, nothing but meat. If he disobeyed, if he became a threat to this man and his superiority, this man, this supposed human being, would not hesitate to put a bullet though the back of his head.

Hell, he'd shoot him from the front.

"Yes, Sir," Davis stated, taking a step back, acknowledging the very scary man's superiority.

As the Colonel left, Davis found himself re-evaluating his previous beliefs. Yeah, the X-series had animal DNA, but hell, that man was one hundred percent pure human and he was a bigger monster than anything they had ever cooked up in the labs.

* * *

They were a solemn group, Squad 3. Syl and Austin had been treated and returned for light duty, but Eva had been held back, her injuries severe enough to warrant at least a two day stay.

Mercy would be there for at least a week, probably two, and Jack….

Jack wasn't coming back.

Zack had told them. He didn't want to, but there was no point in lying; even if he said otherwise, Jack was dead.

They were doing a sparring drill, pairing up with each other with a solemn, funeral like air.

Krit stood across from the much smaller Syl, his gaze darting to her injured shoulder. She shouldn't be sparring, shouldn't have to spar. He was only seven, but already he knew she deserved better. She deserved safety and comfort, not this, not mission, duty, discipline, and death.

Ben was shaking. He was shaking so bad he was surprised the Trainers didn't notice.

Jack was dead. He'd been right there, right in front of them one minute, the next, he was lying on the ground, bleeding, breathing.

And now he wasn't doing anything. He was probably lying on a slab somewhere in the Manticore morgue, waiting to be dissected or harvested, or just plain destroyed.

They'd wipe him from the earth, wipe him from their records, and try and wipe him from their memories.

But Ben would always remember the blood.

"Ben," Max hissed, expressive brown eyes filled with pain as she drew his attention to the task at hand.

"He's gone, Maxie." Ben hated to be weak, _hated_ it, but he didn't have any strength left.

Zack had told them it'd been a trick, a real mission they'd been tasked to without their knowledge.

Manticore, of the duty, mission, and discipline; the place that taught them to plan, the execute, had sent them, unknowing with half-ass intel, into a situation where they'd lost one man and nearly lost another.

"They did this." Ben didn't have to clarify; Maxie knew. He could see it in her eyes. "They killed him."

They may not have pulled the trigger themselves, but they were definitely responsible.

"They need to pay." Vengeance was all he could think of; punishing those who'd brought this hell upon them and his family.

"Yeah," Maxie agreed, her caramel colored eyes flashing with something feral, something not human.

"They need to pay." The whisper went up and down the line, reaching Zack's ears and drawing his attention to the rest of his family, his pack. He agreed with sentiment, but he understood the consequences better than the rest; if they fought, more of them would die.

"Stand down," he ordered, his voice pitched low so that only the transgenics could hear him.

He caught Ben's gaze and he knew, with one look, that the idiot wasn't going to listen. Ben had watched Jack fall; him and Maxie, Blue and Jondy. They'd watched their brother take that fatal bullet and with X5 perfect recall, they could watch it again and again, reliving the painful moment with picture perfect clarity until it just about drove them nuts.

"Damnit, Ben," Zack swore, breaking ranks the same time as the smaller X5, intercepting his lithe form headed for the nearest guard, an idiot newbie who was standing Too. Damn. Close.

"What the fuck-?" Trainer Wentz gaped at the snarling, brawling mess that was X5-599 and X5-493, his attention turning, too late, to the remains of the squad.

In Eva's absence, Seth was left in the position of SIC, a position he really hated to have since it meant that, instead of going after the nearest guard like Ben had and like he really wanted to do, he was stuck trying to keep their squad in order as things went to shit.

Maxie, little, fierce Maxie, was facing off against two guards who'd unwisely ventured too close to the fray. Reeling from the loss of her brother, and with the justifiable feeling that it was these ordinary bastards faults, she would have picked up the nearest one and tossed him if she had the leverage. But she was too small to do that, so she settled for a bruising kick to the sternum.

The second guard reached for his taser and, with a sinking feeling, Seth realized he was going to get to it before Maxie could stop him, at least until Jondy came plowing into him.

He had to get them to stop, had to keep them from attacking the guards; as long as it was just Ben and Zack they could pass it off as tension between the ranks. If they started going after the guards…

They'd end up in Psy-Ops, at best, separated at worst. Taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders, Seth barked his orders.

"798! 399! Subdue 452 and 210!" Both Jace and Hawk paused to stare at them, which was exactly what he _did not _need at the moment. "NOW!"

Not used to hearing the normally mild mannered X5 yell, both Jace and Hawk sprung into the brawl without any more hesitation. Max was too pissed to be much good in a fight, and Hawk just flat out had Jondy in a fight, so that was quickly taken care of, leaving Seth with the problem of keeping the rest of the squad in line.

"We can't be fighting them, not now," he hissed, earning him several startled glances.

"They killed Jack," Max snapped from her position, arms twisted at awkward and painful angles as Jace gripped her from behind, her arms passing underneath Max's shoulders, her hands clasped together behind her neck, effectively making struggle a very painful, and very unwise, option.

"They'll kill you," Seth shot back, his anger boiling to the surface, pushed there by his fear. "You think you're special? You think that just because you survived, you're safe?"

His gaze traveled through the rest of the squad, taking in their grim, somber expressions.

"They'll kill you if you become a problem. And if they don't kill you, they'll take you away. They'll put you in the basement with the rest of the nomalies and study you. We won't see you every again."

He waited until he was sure even Max was listening, her rage slowly abating under his grim words.

"If we attack them now, without any apparent provocation, they'll separate us. They'll retire the squad and reassign all of us and we will never see each other again. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Nobody answered.

"DO YOU?" He roared.

"YES, SIR!" Twenty-some voices snapped in reply, their grim, pale faced expressions saying it all.

It was true, everything he had just said. The second Manticore figured out that they were more loyal to each other than they were to them, they were as good as separated at best, dead and dissected at worst.

In the background, Zack and Ben's fight had ended rather abruptly, with Zack pinning a snarling, wiggling Ben, his own teeth bared in a fierce imitation of an Alpha wolf warning a subordinate.

A low, threatening growl rumbled, too low for the ordinaries to hear, but striking at just the right chord with Ben.

He froze. He went stock still, his lips quickly covering teeth as he stared, wide eyed, up at his Alpha.

Zack growled again and Ben quickly averted his gaze, staring over at the rest of his family as he waited for Zack to make his decisions.

By rights, in the wild, Zack could kill him for what he had just done. Some primitive, animal instinct warned Ben of that fact, warned him to expect the heavy swipe of claws or the sharp pinch of teeth.

The human part of him, though, knew Zack wouldn't kill him. Knew that Zack would let him live because they were family, and you didn't kill family.

Both parts were sorry that this had ever happened; sorry about the fight, sorry about Jack's death. Just plain sorry.

"X5-599! 493!" PJ Cutler hadn't been told until after the fact that this wasn't just a regular training mission and he was just about as pissed as he got.

He'd been Delta before he got this posting; he'd seen good men die because of piss poor intelligence, and he'd killed a few of those good men himself.

He loved his country; he'd die defending it; he'd always known that.

But, fuck it, he hated those goddamn cocksuckers who thought just because you have brass you have balls.

Ain't no balls required to send other people to die for your sorry ass delusions of grandeur.

He could understand 493's frustrations; hell, he could understand the kids whole thought process from the moment he decided to go after that guard to the second he actually did.

The kid was young, and right now, he was stupid too. Killing the pissants that passed as Manticore's elite guard crop wouldn't do jackshit but land his ass in some hellish pit for an undetermined amount of time for 'evaluation' which, as far as Cutler could tell, was Manticore code for torture.

Hell's bells, they thought Gitmo was bad.

_Wonder what the people would think if they saw this shit, live in living color, _PJ thought with dark humor.

"On your feet, soldiers!" He snarled, snapping at them like the idiots they were.

Well, 493 was being an idiot. 599 was just the poor bastard who had to deal with it.

599 sprang off of 493 and 493 quickly scrambled to stand at attention next to his CO.

"What the fuck were you thinking, 493?" Cutler all but roared at the kid. He knew green recruits with more common sense than this kid, who had seven years more training that said recruits.

But hell, he was still a kid. And kids were notorious for not thinking things through.

Well, if 493 wanted to go off half-cocked, Cutler was sure as shit not going to encourage him.

"Report to the brig, 493! Four days, bread and water, no sunlight. Understood?"

"Yes, SIR!" 493 snapped a quick salute before executing a perfect turn and marching back to the building, two guards breaking ranks to follow. Already, PJ could see plans for revenge forming in their eyes.

"Escort him 599, before reporting back here."

"Sir!" 599 saluted before turning and following, catching up quickly with 493 who had easily heard PJ's much quieter order and paused to wait for his CO.

The first guard turned to look at the dumbshit who'd ruined his fun and found himself staring at one-hundred percent pure Army Ranger, Delta Force, and all around killing machine.

_Don't fuck with _my _kids_, Cutler's eyes seemed to say. _Or I will fuck you up._

_He's not so tough, _the guard thought to himself, his hand drifting involuntarily to his taser. Cutler smiled, but it was without humor.

It was a predator's smile and the guard's hand quickly slipped away from his taser.

_Maybe some other time._

Yeah, when Cutler got 'transferred' out like the rest of the Trainer's.


	5. Chapter 5

**January, 2009**

"Tell me what you have."

Dr. Heinreich Starke knew that by most standards he would be classified as a monster. He knew that, to the outside world, his work was cruel and inhumane. He knew that what he did violated every human rights code ever written.

He knew – and he didn't care.

_They aren't human, after all_, he thought, flipping the metal folder open and scanning the sheet clipped to the front before turning his attention to the man who was responsible for him being here.

Colonel Donald Michael Lydecker had helped rescue him from a Nuremberg jail cell and bring him here so he could continue his experiments for the greater good of man kind.

"We were unable to successfully replicate the, ah, natural results of 766 and 417's interaction with the five fraternal sets we pulled from other units. Unfortunately, three of the sets perished in the attempts."

The Colonel grunted, his eyes locked on the two transgenics in hospital beds on the other side of the mirror.

He was unsurprised with the report. After all, Squad 3 had been custom made to order in the most literal sense of the word.

He was curious, however, that, after over thirty-years in America, Heinreich still managed to sound like he'd just learned English yesterday. The man's accent was absolutely atrocious.

"Stop the experiments," he ordered after a moments reflection. "Give them three days to recover, then send them back to Squad 3."

"Yes, Sir," Heinreich watched the Colonel leave, letting out a happy sigh. There was a leader, a true _Fuhrer_ if he ever saw one. If this man had been in charge of the troops, Germany would have never lost the war.

Even in his advanced age, Heinreich could recall, with excellent clarity, the days of his youth.

He'd joined the Nazi party when he was fifteen, a boy genius showing excellent potential in the medical science. He'd started his experiments at eighteen, in Dachau, before moving to Auschwitz in 1943.

When the war had ended in 1945, he'd lost everything. He'd been forced to go on the run, to live like a commoner when he was far better than that.

He'd been caught in 1967, just outside of Argentina. They'd put him on trial like some evil criminal mastermind, when, in fact, he was genius. A God, if you will. His work had been cutting edge, and with an almost unlimited supply of test subjects, he'd easily overcome ten years of benign testing to create vaccines and cures.

He ended up in a jail cell in his native land, locked away like an embarrassing secret. He was referred to as 'Der Artz' or 'The Doctor' and spit on. He survived on gruel and water and the knowledge that he was better than his captors, both mentally and physically, until the day a man had walked into his cell.

He'd offered him Heaven on a plate and Heinreich hadn't hesitated to agree.

Now, at age eighty-three, he was just as passionate about his work as he had been at age eighteen, and even less caring about his subjects. They were nothing but lab rats, anyway.

_Pretty, though._

_

* * *

_

Eva couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this much pain and, quite frankly, she wasn't sure she wanted to. Everything hurt, from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair.

Every nerve in her body screamed with agony as she gingerly, carefully, opened one eye, slamming it shut moments later, nausea rolling through like a tidal wave as the bright light sent a fresh wave of pain crashing through her tender brain.

A small groan worked its way past cracked lips, the faint coppery taste of blood lingering on her tongue, making her question what, exactly, was going on.

She didn't remember getting into a fight…

An answering groan echoed from nearby, prompting her to make another go at opening her eyes, this time a lot more cautiously and only one eye at a time.

Her left eye opened, adjusted, and focused on the occupant of the bed next to her.

Her right eye popped open and she blinked several times just to make sure she wasn't seeing things.

"Jack?" She whispered, awe-struck by the simple fact that he was there.

" 'va?" Came the barely coherent grumble as Jack let out another pitiful moan. " 'at happened?"

"You were shot." It came to her with striking clarity. He'd been shot, right through the chest.

They'd been on a training mission, only, it didn't seem like a training mission. There were real bullets and real guns, and when the enemy hostiles went down, they didn't get back up like in normal simulations.

She'd been injured, her team pinned. Jack and Jondy had come up to aid in an extraction. She remembered getting hit a second time and Jack, who was in front of her, turning to look at her over his shoulder, and then…

His chest had been a bloody mess, his face going too pale too quick.

They'd made it down the hill and she'd been put in the same OR as him.

The doctors had tried to save him, but it didn't work. He'd died on the table.

_He was supposed to be dead._

Did that mean she was dead?

It took her brain a few seconds to work through the problem and arrive at the conclusion that it was unlikely.

Quite frankly, she was in too much pain to be dead.

Which meant Jack wasn't dead either.

So what had happened and why were they here?

And why was her mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood?

"Ahh, dur avak," a heavily accented voice spoke from just outside of her peripheral. Turning her head slightly to get him in view, she felt her lip involuntarily curl as she recognized the doctor.

He was one of many doc's on site, and he was one of the few X5's knew better than to cross. This man had power and an abundance of experiments he took gleeful joy in using them for.

"Nurse!" He called, his attention going from them to the chart in his hands. A young, pretty blond with freckles entered the room, her gaze skittering away from the doctor, sliding past the two injured X5's, and focusing instead on the wall behind them.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Clean these two up before transferring them to the Recovery Ward."

"Yes, Doctor."

Attention firmly engrossed in the lab results in front of him, Heinreich moved from the main lab to his office, shutting the door and sitting down behind his desk, leaving Eva and Jack alone with the nervous nurse.

She had to be new. Only the new nurses were ever this nervous.

She'd get over it quick. She had to. Otherwise, she'd be transferred out, which meant either a Manticore controlled assignment elsewhere, or death.

She left without saying anything, undoubtedly off to retrieve clean clothing for the two of them, leaving them in relative peace for a moment.

"You're alive," escaped Eva's mouth before she could stop it, earning her a wide-eyed startled look from Jack.

"Yes?" He hazarded after a moment, months of drugs coupled with a fatal injury causing his brain to work at a slower speed than normal.

"You died," Eva replied, not seeing the point of sugar coating it. "I felt you die."

He blinked again and opened his mouth to correct her because, after all, if he had died, he wouldn't be here right now, but a faint memory had him closing his mouth.

He remembered being cold. He remembered everything chipping away, leaving one small point left, one tiny pinprick of light in the dark.

It'd been cold, but quiet. Peaceful, almost. But he'd been so alone. There was nobody there and he'd wished, not with any conscious thought, that he was with his family.

There'd been a warm brush, a faint sound, disturbing the darkness, causing ripples like in the water when you dropped a pebble.

"_Come back, Jack."_

Eva's voice. He'd recognize it anywhere.

He stared at his sister, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head, eyes wide as she stared back.

"I was dead." It was a statement, but there was faint air of disbelief about the whole thing. He'd been dead. He'd been cold, gone, deceased.

But he was here, living and breathing, with his sister, in one of Manticore's many labs, wondering first, how did he get here and second, why were they here?

The how, he couldn't explain fully beyond the fact that Eva had definitely brought him back. As for why they were here…well, he was actually more concerned with how long they'd been here.

The blood in his mouth was dry and old, and his chest…His chest was whole.

He moved his hands to touch it, to confirm tactilely what his mind was telling him intellectually, but when he tried, he came up short.

His gaze went downward, taking in the restraints with a faintly puzzled frown. It wasn't common for X5's to have to be strapped down when injured, but it had never happened to him before, which revived the question of why he was here and elicited a new one of what, exactly, had happened.

"Here we go," the new nurse re-entered, a stack of clean clothes and towels in her hands, a fake smile on her face as she set them down on a counter top and turned to face them.

"Do you think you can walk?" She moved rather efficiently despite her rather submissive manner, undoing their restraints, starting with Eva, then Jack.

"Yes," came Eva's unhesitant reply. No matter how bad their injuries or how long they'd been here, she was positive both herself and Jack would prefer to move around on their own power, however slow, than accept help from someone that worked for Manticore.

Sitting upright was aided only by the face that their beds had already been tilted up. Using her nose for the first time for something other than taking in Jack's scent, Eva realized rather quickly there was a reason for that.

Vomit, dried and caked, made little streaking lines down the front of her gown, reaching up, she pressed a hand against the side of her face and winced as it came awake flaked with blood, a faint throbbing in her mouth going from barely noticeable to nearly overwhelming with the simple gesture.

"That should go away within the week," was the nurses too cheerful assessment.

Eva said nothing, levying her legs over the edge of the bed and letting them dangle there for a moment as she flexed her toes.

The gesture was much harder than it should have been, giving her a rough estimate that they'd been in here over a month, at least, for her muscles to become this unresponsive.

More soreness worked its way up and down her body, leaving her to wonder, yet again, what had happened. Even more worrying, she wondered why she couldn't remember. X5's were equipped not only with photo-recall memory, but with exceptional sensory memory as well. Even unconscious a certain part of her should have been aware. But when she searched her vast memory banks, she came back with nothing.

Her memory of the last month, at least, started less than an hour ago.

"Alrighty, there's a small showering booth just over there," the nurse pointed to a curtained off portion of the lab. "Just go ahead and get cleaned up and come on out so I can get a good look at your injuries."

That sounded like a good idea, the shower and then the looking at their injuries. Jack was curious and a little bit panicked by his complete unawareness of how his body had gotten into his current state of being. Over eight years of remembering your every moment, and then a big huge blank spot definitely scared him.

He risked a look over at Eva, taking in her blood and vomit encrusted appearance, then the grim line of her mouth, her eyes meeting his, both of them sharing the sentiment.

Eva got off of the bed first, quicker than she would have liked, but this was Manticore. 'Linger' and 'Slow Recovery' were not acceptable words in the Manticore vocabulary lexicon.

Her legs, predictably, buckled, and it was only by the nurses reflexes that she managed to stay upright.

She hated needing support to stay upright, but she hated having this ordinaries hands on her more. She stayed there only for the exact amount of time it took her for her to steady herself, before taking a slow, cautious step forward, out of the nurses arms, both of them holding their breaths, then breathing out steady sighs of relief when her legs held.

Jack waited until his sister was about level with him to get out of his own bed, using her shoulder for support to get his initial bearings, than the two of them leaning on each other the rest of the fifteen feet or so to the showers.

They undressed in front of each other, both sets of eyes taking in the others condition before turning their attention to their own.

Eva had a long, fresh scar, about sixteen inches or so, bisecting her chest, going from her left shoulder as a diagonal down to her stomach. It was in company with two more scars, one a round hole that could only be a bullet wound and the other, a short blunt knife wound that went all the way through, an echoing line on her back.

Eva was about to take the scar from the bullet into account when factoring the amount of time they'd been here because, after all, she had been shot during their last mission, when she realized with no small amount of alarm, that she'd been shot on the other side. The scar was on the wrong side of her body.

"You have taser marks on your arms," Jack stated, his voice quiet so as not to draw attention to them.

"You have them, too," Eva replied. He also had a scar over his chest, just barely visible, which gave her the best estimate of time so far. It took at least four months for an X5 with a wound as serious as his to recover completely to the point of unblemished skin.

He had more than that, though. He had marks up and down his back, cuts, sections of skin missing that had, thanks to his X5 healing, regrown themselves.

There was another scar on the inside of his leg, where his femoral artery was, an angry red line that had barely healed.

Taking in that cut, along with the matching slashes on her wrists, she was left with the horrified feeling that Manticore had intentionally been trying to kill them.

Stabbings, shootings, strangulation…

Her throat was sore and her voice was still scratchy.

"What did they do to us?" She whispered, horrified as she stared over at her brother.

"I don't know," Jack replied, expression grim. "But we're going to find out."

"The others," Eva's head jerked up as their eyes locked, identical blue eyes widening. "Do you think…"

_Do you think they know we're alive?_

Given the nature of their injuries, and the conclusions they were drawing, it was unlikely. Did that mean they were going to be reassigned? Was Manticore separating them?

Eva hated emotions, hated how weak they made her feel, but all but crawling into Jacks arms, she wrapped her arms around him under the lukewarm spray of the shower and breathed in his scent, tears falling from her eyes and mixing with the water to run down his back.

_They aren't going to take him away from me, not again._

Eva was sure of that. She'd rather die for real than let that happen.

Judging from the tightening of his arms and the determined set of his expression when they pulled back and separated, Jack was sharing the same thought.

They finished bathing in silence, washing dried blood, vomit, and other bodily fluids from their forms before quickly drying themselves and emerging from the showering area.

The nurse started with Eva, taking her behind a curtain in a bid for privacy that Jack didn't bother to heed. He stood in the corner, watching the nurses movements with wary eyes, taking in everything. If she tried to so much as displace a hair on Eva's head…

_Hair._

Jack's eyes widened as he stared, completely surprised, at the hair that hung to the midway point of Eva's ears.

She had hair. Reaching up, he realized, startled, that he did to.

Just how long had they been here for?

"Alrighty, then," the nurse stated, smile not quite reaching her eyes as she finished with Eva and turned to Jack.

"417, you're up next."

Jack tolerated the inspection, distracted by the odd feeling of his hair tickling the sides of his face. He'd washed it in the shower, but it was like he hadn't really been paying attention to what he had been doing. Now, the wet strands were all that he seemed to be able to acknowledge.

"All set," the nurse was really starting to get on Eva's nerves, with her constant statement of obvious facts that really didn't need to be voiced out loud.

"Now we're gonna head on down to the Quartermasters hut and get that hair taken care of before we get you two settled in the Recovery Ward."

Recovery ward?

Eva looked over at Jack, who signaled his ignorance with the subtle lift of one shoulder. Oh, they knew what the Recovery Ward was, but they didn't know what had been done for them to warrant it.

The Recovery Ward was a fancy term for Observation room, where the victims of Manticore's latest experimentations went for a 'just in case' segment of time, where Manticore tested them to make sure their bloodstreams were clear of whatever chemicals might have been used, double checked to make sure whatever bones that had been broken intentionally had been properly healed, and just made sure the experiment was over and the experimentees recovered before being shipped back out to their assigned squads.

Almost every X5 on site had spent at least three days there after whatever experiment that Manticore was featuring at that particular time was over.

So, they put together the pieces. Manticore had been using them for an experiment in the last three to four months. They knew the experiment had something to do with dying, or at least, near death.

It should have been comforting to have some idea, at least, of what had happened, but they were both drawing complete blanks that scared them now even more than not knowing had scared them a mere hour prior.

Their beds were next to each other for expedience's sake.

"Three days and then you can go back out to play," was the nurses parting words, earning her two slightly hostile looks that trailed her out of the room.

What kind of idiot termed what they did on a daily bases as 'play'?

* * *

"What the fuck was that, 452? I swear to God, you're aim seems to get shittier and shittier every week. Is there a fucking reason why you can't seem to hit the fucking target anymore, or is this your way of saying you aren't having fun anymore?"

Max didn't understand how Trainer Rothberg could term what they were doing as 'fun', but since he wasn't required by the simple act of birth to undergo this training, it probably seemed like an enjoyable pastime to him.

Truth be told, Max didn't like guns. She hadn't even before Jack's death and Eva's disappearance, and she absolutely loathed them now. Every time she pulled the trigger, she saw Jack's wide blue eyes, startled in injury, and then her imagination pictured them glassy in death.

She'd pull the trigger with her vision firmly stuck in the past, and this was the result.

"Get back in line!" Rothberg gave her a none too gentle shove, sending her stumbling away, sneering at the faint, warning growl emerging low in Zack's throat. Either he was stupid, or all that weapons fire had made him half deaf, cause he obviously didn't see Zack as a threat.

He was an idiot, then. Zack had spent a week in Psy-Ops following the altercation with Ben, a week in which he'd been 'evaluated' to determine if he was still fit for command.

He'd proved himself so through sheer cold-blooded determination, a sentiment that seemed echoed throughout the squad.

Ben hadn't told a single story since Jack's death. Neither Jondy or Max had asked for one, either.

Switch had been unmerciful in her actions, shooting targets with ruthless efficiency, training as if she could bring their fallen siblings back through her efforts today. Hawk spent most of his time keeping an eye on both her and Mercy, who'd been steadily edging her way from unmerciful to completely ruthless. They'd sparred against Squad 6 the other day and Hawk had actually had to pull Mercy off of the hapless X5 she'd been paired against. He'd ended up being sent to the infirmary with two loose teeth, a dislocated jaw, a fractured elbow, and severely bruised ribs.

Blue and Jace had thrown themselves into their studies, coldly and efficiently reporting fact after fact to glassy eyed instructors, with lab techs standing in the background, taking note of their actions with approving nods.

Coop and Trip had teamed up with Zane, Austin, and Becca to become the biggest collective pain in the Trainers' asses. Coffee mugs went missing, sugar became salt, trip wires were showing up all over the place with nasty little surprises on the other end. They'd even gone as far as to sneak out after lights out, take apart Trainer Vance's car, and reassemble it on the glass roof of one of the many chemical laboratories located on site. Command was still puzzling over that. They had camera's all over the place, and yet, none of them had caught anything. It was like his car had just…appeared, out of thin air. Magic.

More like mischief.

Seth and Vada were fighting constantly, the prickly female refusing to let her SIC have any authority over her, resulting in multiple trips to Solitary for mouthing off and insubordination. If she could keep her mouth shut and not do anything in front of the Trainers, she wouldn't have ended up there at all, but it was like her preservation instinct had just turned off.

Seth was caught between knocking some sense into her, and just letting it be. They were grieving and despite everything, their grief wasn't going to just go away.

Kavi was as quiet as ever, spending most of his time with Brin, the two of them having gone so quiet, they'd developed their own way of speaking without actually voicing anything out loud or moving their hands. It was an invaluable tool during training missions and one of the few things that Zack considered good to have come from this mess.

Tinga was spending all of her time with Sky, throwing herself into their medical studies, becoming an effective third medic for their Squad. Sky was the steadiest member of their team aside from Zack and Hawk, a quiet rock the others would seek out during the storm, or the nights they couldn't rest, and curl up against.

Krit and Syl had taken a rather unorthodox method of grief by becoming the terrors of the demolition field. They would add things to their explosives, getting creative to the point of sheer artistry. The other day, they'd found enough copper to create quite a light show that had had the Trainer's blinking and scratching their heads as they watched the greenery actually burn _green_.

Cheyenne…Zack couldn't get a read on Cheyenne. She seemed so normal in comparison to the rest of them, which was a completely irrelevant term considering they were about as far from normal as you could get. But her behavior patterns had barely altered themselves. It was like she was pretending it hadn't happened, acting like Eva and Jack had never existed, because, that way, if they hadn't ever existed, they couldn't have died.

"Alright," the junior trainer finished recording the last of their stats as Rothberg glared at them. "You're dismissed. Get your sorry asses out of my sight. NOW!"

The Squad snapped to attention and Zack snapped a quick salute before turning and marching away, his squad following in two lines behind him, with Seth marching next to him.

Range was their last class before lunch mess, which was a welcome break from the tedium that was their routine.

"Sandwiches," Coop stared glumly at the spread before him. You had your choice: Ham, Turkey, or Tuna.

"I hate Tuna," Trip agreed in that same tone.

"Just shut up and eat it," Zack ordered, not happy with their performance today. Hell, he wasn't happy with their performance this month. They'd dropped from first to second in the rankings and, if this shit kept up, they were looking at third.

The Colonel was pissed with them. They'd done more punishments in the last three months than in all the years prior. They were barely functioning as individuals, and as a Squad, they were falling apart. As a family, they were falling apart.

"You okay, Maxie?" Krit asked, voice low as they took their seats.

"Fine," Max replied, voice short, belligerent expression firmly in place, making it abundantly clear that she didn't want to talk about it.

Staring at his sister, his expression crossed between concerned and what the nurses termed 'kicked puppy.'

Max had always been a little too sensitive, Zack supposed. She felt things deeper than the rest of them. Things that he could brush off stuck with her and lingered. It was a habit she was either going to have to get over or learn how to cope with better.

"Did you see the look on Trainer Appleby's face?" Zane was grinning at the memory even before Becca finished with the question.

Appleby was their latest act of mischief. He was a stout, slightly overweight Trainer who had a tendency to spit when he yelled, which sucked cause he liked to yell, a lot. And he got into your face when he did it.

So, in retaliation, the Scream Team, as Mercy, in a moment of bemusement, had dubbed them, had rigged up a 'water tower' during a recent training mission. It had been a five gallon bucket, filled with dirty water from the creek and various deceased animals and other potential biological hazards for a norm, suspended by ropes, stolen from the Quartermasters hut, and rigged with a trip wire so that the first Trainer, who was always Appleby, to cross it would be hit with the deluge.

The whole 'operation', as Zane termed it, had taken about a half an hour to accomplish. It had been worth it.

Not even Appleby, with all his ranting and raving, could prove that it had been them.

Even Maxie smiled at the memory.

"What are we doing after mess?" Sky asked, having been in such a hurry that morning that he'd forgotten to get a look at their schedule posted on the board outside of their barracks.

"Sparring with Squad 9," Zack replied, swallowing the last of his sandwich and reaching for his water. "Followed by an eighteen click march, evening mess, and underwater training."

Hawk made a face, at least, as much of a face as the normally quite stoic transgenic could make. It was probably all that extra feline and bird of prey DNA, but he just didn't like water.

"Maybe you'll get lucky and break you arm," Mercy offered by way of encouragement, earning her several disbelieving looks.

"It's happened before," she pointed out dryly by way of justification.

* * *

Lunch was over too soon and with an inner sigh of resignation, Zack marched his squad out to Tarmac C where the sparring mats were laid out.

518, the CO of Squad 9, had an oddly perturbed look on his face as he stood at the head of his squad.

Taking his place across from him, Zack stared blandly black as 518's gaze locked in on him.

His SIC, 316, murmured something too softly for even Zack's ears to pick up and 518 turned his body slightly as he replied.

"FACE FORWARD!" Trainer Scott had the unique distinction of being the loudest Trainer on site, much to the chagrin of X5's sensitive hearing. 518 quickly angled his body forward, his eyes snapping up and locking in on a thousand yard stare.

"Well, well," his co-Trainer and fellow supervisor, Trainer Steele, regarded the two groups with a faintly quirked eyebrow. "This ought to be interesting."

Squad 3 was gaining quite a reputation for their inability to apparently accomplish the tasks assigned them, and Squad 9 was the smallest squad on base, topping out at twenty-three members.

As far as CO rankings went, 518 was third on site, with 599 on top, and 153, CO of Squad 7, ranking just underneath him.

Both Squads were prized for their ruthlessness and this was the first time in months that they'd been paired up for any exercise.

Considering the last three Squads Squad 3 had sparred with had all had members ending up in the infirmary, Steele was really looking forward to seeing how this turned out.

"Fifty on three," he murmured to Scott as they pulled the paperwork for both squads. Glancing over his shoulder at the blank faced soldiers, Scott took in 518's blank face and the lethal glint in 599's eyes.

"Make it five."

Two hours later, 518 half leaned on 316 as he helped him down the halls to the infirmary. It wasn't in 518's nature to quit, so when 599 had come after him, he'd given as good as he got.

Unfortunately, 599 had the distinction of being one of the best in hand-to-hand, where 518's specialty was firearms, more specifically, marksmanship. He was his squads number one Sniper. He ranked third on base, behind 098 from Squad 5 and 399 from Squad 3.

He undoubtedly had a concussion which, thankfully, was the worst injury suffered by his squad. 387 had a nosebleed resulting in a dirty move executed by 633, but she was 'toughing it out' as the Trainers termed it.

She'd given as good as she got though, and 633 was currently sporting two black eyes and a severely bruised jaw for her trouble.

"Doing alright, Sir?" 316 asked as they rounded yet another corner.

Truthfully? 518 was about ready to hork. He had double vision, a splitting headache, and if he didn't have 316 to orientate himself with, he'd be on the floor.

"I'm fine." 316's snort let him know that his SIC wasn't fooled in the least and he almost smiled.

"Let me guess," Doctor Jonah Park was on duty, which was about as good as it could get for an X5. He was a decent sort, working almost exclusively with training related injuries. Unlike the majority of the medical staff, he had actual military experience and, as a result, an appreciation for the pain that came with a lot of their injuries, having been shot at and beat up his fair share of times.

"Sparring with Squad 3?"

"599, Sir," 316 supplemented his explanation.

"And he's still standing?" Park arched an eyebrow as he let his feet fall to the floor from the desk they'd been propped up on and pushed himself to his feet. "Color me impressed. Let's get him on a table."

316 helped deposit 518 on the table, moving away only after he was certain the other transgenic could remain upright on his own.

"Definitely a concussion," Park reported cheerfully, his voice low so as not to further agitate 518, not that it did much help. _Any _noise at this point was like a knife straight into his brain.

"You're going to be here overnight, at least. You might as well return to training, 316. Keep 387 out of trouble."

"I don't think any thing could keep 387 out of trouble, Sir," 316 replied, offering the doctor a quick salute before leaving.

"Looks like it's the Recovery Ward for you. Twenty-four hour observation just to be on the safe side."

It took him about fifteen minutes to help the young transgenic into a bed, and another twenty to fill out the proper paperwork, including a notice prohibiting any lab techs from pulling 518 for any experiments, which the X5 was immensely grateful for.

"I'll be by to check on you in an hour," Park told him. "Behave and make friends. Don't go anywhere while I'm gone."

_Fat chance._

518 was just barely managing to keep his lunch down as it stood, so standing on his own was out of the question and there was no way he was going anywhere.

As for the making friends…

"Concussion?"

Turning his head to the side, 518 blinked at the female transgenic in the bed next to him, ascertaining, for a fact, that it really was 766 in the bed next to him and not some head injury induced hallucination.

"Yeah. 599," 518 stated by way of answer and explanation. 766 grinned faintly.

"That's Za- 599 for you."

Concussed he was, but stupid he had yet to become. 766 had been about to refer to 599 by something other than his designation. It was a curious fact 518 would have normally pressed, but with his head pounding…

"How long have we been missing for?" 766 asked. 518 opened his mouth to respond when her words hit him.

"We?" He frowned at her.

"Yeah, we," came the reply from just beyond 766. Tilting his head forward slightly to get a better look, 518 double checked with his nose before confirming, for a fact, that the X5 in the bed next to 766 was, indeed, 417.

"You're supposed to be dead," were the first words out of 518's mouth.

"Surprise," came the dry reply as the other transgenic echoed 518's position, his eyes doing a quick up and down before his lips quirked upward slightly.

"You look like shit."

"Gee, thanks."

"Just calling it like I see it."

"Well, can you call it a little bit quieter? My head's kind of killing me." 417 and 766 obediently shut their mouths and 518 shut his eyes.

Without the lights shining, his head felt marginally better.

True to his word, Park stopped by at least once an hour, trading friendly jokes with all three transgenics as he went through checking 518's vitals, before leaving again.

Lights out was rapidly approaching and the number of people moving in and out of the Ward was reduced enough for 518 to be able to relax ever so slightly.

He was dozing when he heard the tell tale tread of a pair a boots and a step pattern that belonged solely to the base Director.

His eyes opened and he struggled to gain his footing as the Colonel came to stop in front of their beds.

The Colonel regarded the kid, 518, with barely a glance, focusing his attention on 417 and 766.

"417, 766, you're being shipped back out to your squad, effective immediately. A change of uniform is waiting for you in the showers along with the rest of your squad. Dismissed."

"Sir!" 766 and 417 snapped quick salutes before leaving. As they past, 518 took in their _relieved _expressions with no small amount of puzzlement, though he kept it off his face.

"As you were, soldier," the Colonel waved him off, leaving after having a whispered discussion with another doctor about the X6's.

Sliding back into his bed, 518 closed his eyes and pondered the two new facts he'd learned today.

Fact A: 599 had something other than a designation by which his Squad referred to him at. A name, maybe?

518 had a name, same as the rest of his squad. They'd used it as a Squad bonding exercise, deciding that, if they'd been born ordinaries, these were the monikers by which they'd prefer to be referred to as.

His was Crash. It was both a verb and a noun, and a perfect description for his tendency to be, what was commonly referred to as 'a party pooper', bringing his squad 'crashing' back down to reality during moments of extreme emotion.

The second fact he was aware of was that, for reasons unknown to him, both 766 and 417 were not only happy with their Squad assignments, but emotionally attached as well. It was all in the way they acted, not only towards each other, but in the way 766 had worded her statement about 599, the sheer joy and pride in her eyes when talking about her CO.

Up until this point, he hadn't considered the possibility that other Squads could be as close as his was. Now he wondered if there were any squads that _weren't_ that close.

* * *

Her heartbeat was through the roof. Next to her, Jack's echoed the same tempo. Four months missing and they were going to get to see their family for the first time since…

The guards escorted them to the bay doors, waiting long enough for Eva to place her hand on the knob and turn before turning and walking back the way they came, their mission completed.

Letting her breath out in a steady sigh, Eva pushed the hatch open and stepped through, blinking at the empty barracks.

"Where is everybody?" Jack asked, poking his head around her to peer in all the corners, as if the rest of their squad was hiding in them.

"Probably still in the showers," Eva replied, frowning as she walked into the room. Coming to a stop in front of the rack that was usually hers, she was surprised to find Ben's scent all over it. Tilting her head to the side, Jack arched an eyebrow and nodded, indicating that his rack, too, smelled different.

"Jondy," he murmured, his gaze landing on the bed in the middle. Maxie.

"She must have been having a hard time," Eva surmised, knowing that Max must have had some genetic predisposition stemming from her biological mother for sensitivity because it certainly wasn't a Manticore programmed trait. The girl just felt things more deeply than the rest of them, a fact she barely managed to hide from command and never managed to hide from her family.

"They must have thought we were dead," Jack murmured, moving down the line of bunks, his sensitive nose delivering data to his brain that surprised him.

Next to Jondy was Zane, than Cheyenne, Zack, leaving the last rack empty. All of the last racks were empty. It was like they'd all moved, rearranging themselves from what was assigned to what was comfortable, bringing them closer together.

It made his head hurt, all the thoughts bouncing around, so Jack decided to instead focus on deciding which rack he'd sleep in now. He stared longingly at his old rack, having slept there for all of his childhood and grown accustomed to having Jondy and Max giggling and talking to each other over his head.

With his X5 hearing, he'd still be able to hear them no matter where he was in the room, but, still…

Eva's head perked up as the familiar tread of her siblings reached her sensitive ears. Turning to face the door, she reached out blindingly with her left hand, finding and grasping Jack's right hand in her own, squeezing tightly for comfort. She was briefly worried that she might be squeezing too hard, but realized suddenly that Jack was squeezing her hand back just as hard, if not harder.

So they stood in the middle of the room, expressions of anticipation, as Zack pushed open the door.

And stopped.

"What the hell?" Coop piped up from near the back. It had to be Coop; she'd been gone four months, but not even four months could cure the little imp of his potty mouth.

"Hi," Eva stated, chewing on her bottom lip in nervous anticipation as Zack stood there and continued to stare, his normally stoic face unusually tense.

"What's going on, Zack?" Austin poked his head through the door and blinked.

"Eva…" he breathed and just like that, chaos erupted.

Their siblings poured in the room, happy expressions in place, rapidly fading as they took in Jack. Confusion took over and even little Maxie kept her distance.

"What's going on, Zack?" Eva asked, almost eight years of taking charge prompting her to ask the question rather than wait for an explanation.

Zack was frozen in his own mind, both horrified and hopeful as he stared at the two transgenics in front of him. It had to be some sort of sick joke. Jack was dead; the Colonel himself had informed them of that fact. Eva, though…Eva had simply been missing. Up until that very morning he'd continued to report her missing at morning roll and nobody had bothered to correct him.

Pushing his reactions and feelings towards Manticore and their goddamn interference aside, he pushed forward, emerging from the tight press of his siblings, his focus on a very confused looking Jack.

"What-?" Jack lurched forward as Zack pulled him down and over, peering at the back of his neck like it held some sort of dark, deadly secret.

His fingers, roughened with a lifetime of daily toil, ran almost reverently over the lines decorating the back of Jack's neck.

_331065661417. _Jack.

It was definitely Jack.

Jack was even more surprised and confused when Zack pulled him forward, enveloping him in a hug that was so tight his various aches and bruises protested most vehemently.

"It's Jack," Zack reported, the words, stuck in his throat, forcing themselves out in an odd, croaking tone. He turned to the rest of his siblings, tears, unshed but present, sparkling in his eyes. "It's really him."

Max was the first to reach him, wrapping her tiny arms around his form, tears sliding down her cheeks as she echoed Zack's gesture.

"Welcome back, big brother," she stated, pulling back with a wide smile that contrasted starkly with the shiny lines going down her face following the tracks of her tears.

"Welcome back."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Sorry it's taken so long to update. RL threw quite a few cogs in my creative writing process. Here's Chapter 6 though. I have Chapters 7 – 9 written already and just have to do some quick fact checks and re-writing before I post them. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated!

**February, 2009**

Gun fire shredded the trees overhead and Max instinctively ducked as flying splinters rained down on her camouflage paint-tinged skin.

They'd all but thrown away non-lethal armaments and the transgenics on site had quickly learned the lesson to assume that all bullets were live.

Squad 3 was being very careful with that fact.

Ahead of her, Zack belly-crawled through the brush, his arms cradling his M16 while his finger held steady against the trigger guard, his focus on their surroundings.

Their mission was pretty simple: get from Point A to Point B. There was the live fire overhead, coupled with some tape recorded bomb blasts, but there was no physical enemy out there, only the rest of their family. At certain points in the navigation they would be participating in various tests, but it was nothing they couldn't handle.

They were at the edge of the Manticore woods, working their way in. The mission had only been active for about ten minutes and already Max was bored.

Down the line, Jack was breathing shallowly as he kept low to the ground. Seth was on his right, Mercy on his left, Eva in front of him, and Krit directly behind, but even being surrounded by his family wasn't helping.

Years of training kept his panic from freezing him up, but his face twitched and his fingers were just a little too quick to touch the trigger.

"Easy, Jack," Seth soothed next to him. If Jack reached out, he'd be able to touch him. It wasn't exactly within training regulations, but the proximity to another packmate made him feel decidedly more calmer.

"We've got your back, big brother," Mercy assured him from his other side, her gaze resting on him for a moment, a quick smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, before her attention returned to their surroundings.

Ahead of him, Eva risked a quick glance over her shoulder, giving him a faint nod of assurance and he let out the breath he had been holding in a quick puff.

They'd done range since he had Eva had been back, but this was the first in-woods training with live fire he'd done since and it was pretty hard for him to keep his focus.

Ahead of him, Eva's right fist suddenly rose, her fingers clenched tight, the signal for them to stop.

His breath caught again and his sensitive ears could pick up the accelerate heart beats of his packmates around him.

Was something going wrong? Had somebody been hurt?

His nostrils flared, but all he could detect was the acrid stench of gunfire coupled with the heady aroma of wood and turned earth.

Why were they stopped?

Up ahead, Max let her gaze wander upward as Zack did a quick visual sweep of the area. Standard Operating Procedure.

Movement in a tree caught her attention and she instinctively tensed before blinking in surprise.

She didn't know what it was, only that it was red, and shiny. There was a string attached to the bottom of the sphere and it appeared to be caught in the upper branches of the tree.

Having no idea what to call the object and hoping that Zack would know what it was, she leaned over to tap his shoulder. He turned to her and she pointed upwards, her expression quizzical.

"What is it?" She asked. Zack had had some more training with regards to social behaviors. It wasn't logical to assume that he knew without a doubt what the object was, but it made sense that he would have a better idea than she did.

Zack watched the string attached the thing waver in the breeze, watching as the sphere shifted slightly, rising in the air a bit before catching against another set of branches.

He had no idea what the thing was, but it was interesting. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the others looking upwards as well, his attention caught by Jack's near rapturous expression and Eva's slight grin.

The sphere thing seemed to make them happy. Watching it struggle lightly against it's wooden prison, Zack felt his chest give a faint throb and just barely managed to keep from reaching up to rub at the pain.

"I don't know, Maxie," he murmured, giving their surroundings a quick glance before making a decision. "But I'm going to find out."

Rising carefully from his crawl, he held his M16 at the guard position with one hand as he signaled for the squad to watch their surroundings. Approaching the tree, he did one last quick check before shouldering his M16 and deftly climbing upwards.

The sphere was light, weighing next to nothing, which surprised Zack for a moment. He'd assumed that there would be more to it, but thinking about how it seemed to shift with the slightest of breezes, he felt a little foolish for his surprise.

Carefully making his way back to the ground with his delicate prize in hand, he barely noticed that the others had abandoned their guard positions and gathered in a circle at the bottom, waiting for him. Instead, he carefully maneuvered his prize over to where Eva stood, Jack next to her, their expressions tinged with excitement at both the color of the object and the mystery of both what it was and it's origins.

"It's beautiful," Eva breathed, carefully placing a hand against its smooth, rubbery surface.

"What is it?" She asked, turning her head towards Zack even as Jack carefully took the string from their CO and turned to share their prize with the rest of the squad.

"I don't know," Zack replied, reaching out to touch a finger against its vaguely reflective surface.

"What purpose do you think it serves?" Jack asked, passing the thing over to Max, who held the bottom steady as Brin placed an open palm against its surface.

"It's so light," Max blinked in surprise, turning her head to her neighbor, Krit, who moved sideways so Syl could slip in the gap and touch the object.

"Maybe it's for surveillance," Seth suggested from near the back of the group.

"I don't see any camera's," Vada murmured, gently taking the object from Max and turning to offer it to Seth, who gave her a briefly grateful nod before touching the shiny surface for himself. He had wanted to get close, but he didn't want to push any of his siblings out of the way to do so.

"It's too light," Mercy stated, turning the object sideways slightly to get a better estimate for his dimensions before passing it to Ben with a frown.

"It says something on it," Hawk murmured quietly, tilting it so that the faint letterings decorating one of its rounded sides could be seen.

"Happy Birthday," Max read carefully, a small frown forming as the thing made its way back to her.

"What's a birthday?" Cheyenne asked, running a finger down the side and jerking back with a wince at the high-pitched squealing sound it made.

"Maybe that's its purpose," Ben stated, rubbing his ears with a grimace. "Deafening the enemy."

"I don't know," Zack responded to both Ben and Cheyenne as he carefully accepted the object from Austin, moving it slowly back over to Max as Becca and Kavi touched its sides with awed expressions.

"Section Leader!" It was a testament to just how distracted all of them had been that they hadn't noticed Trainer Hales approaching.

"You will give me that contraband and return back to the training area – "

It was watching Eva flinch and Jack duck away that had Zack reacting. Trainer Hales wasn't a bad guy, and the faintly upset expression on his face as he had approached, barking at them, hadn't exactly escaped Zack's notice. Hales was scared, but Zack was tired of being pushed around.

He hated that Manticore had somehow managed to interrupt this moment and he lashed out, executing a perfect front kick to Trainer Hales midsection, landing with his fists clenched as he prepared to deliver another blow if Hales moved.

"Look," Zack could pick out the voices of his squadmates from a mile away, but even he was hard pressed to figure out who saw the Colonel first.

Max's grip on the thing tightened slightly as she caught sight of the Colonel. He was standing at the edge of the woods, bordering a clearing with a lake they sometimes used in the summer.

He stared at them, his expression tight with disapproval and Max had to fight the urge to turn to Zack as she met his gaze. His frown tightened as he caught sight of the object in her hands, something akin to disappointment decorating his face.

Knowing that she couldn't keep the thing now, especially with the Colonel watching, she gave her siblings a quick apologetic glance as she released her grip on the string and watched the object take flight.

It soared higher and higher until it was just a speck in the sky even to their enhanced vision.

"Return to your training area, soldiers," Trainer Hales wheezed as he got back to his feet, his gaze fixed on the Colonel as he cradled his now bruised ribs with a wince.

"Yes, Sir," Zack spoke for all of them, unslinging his M16 as he silently motioned for them to retake their previous positions.

Max waited fifteen minutes until she was positive they weren't being watched to speak.

"Zack," the faintest tremble in her voice had Zack pausing to glance over at her.

"You hit a Trainer," she spoke, her breath catching as her picture perfect memory replayed the scene from the clearing once more. The Colonel had been standing right there; there was no way he had missed it. And now Zack was going to be punished. The rules said they weren't supposed to hit the Trainers outside of hand-to-hand combat.

"It'll be alright, Maxie," Zack promised, giving the smaller female a quick grin before turning his face forward.

He knew it wasn't going to be, though. The Colonel had given him a look right before he went back to training that had promised punishment.

He'd take it though. He'd take it and he'd be a good soldier, for his men if for no other reason. He was their leader, he needed to be strong to be able to protect them. And the Colonel had told them that anything that didn't kill you made you stronger.

He knew he wasn't going to die. But it had no idea how much it hurt to live.

They were formed up, exercise over, when the guards approached.

"X5-599," the lead one called, his voice crisp and echoing in the cool fall air.

"Sir!" Zack stepped forward, garnering curious looks up and down the lines. 599 was an exemplary soldier; every X5 on sight had heard the phrase 'Be more like 599' bandied about on a near daily basis.

So it was very unusual for him to be singled out like this.

"You're to come with us."

Zack said nothing as he wordlessly went to stand between the two guards. He wanted desperately to look back, to catch Max's eye and reassure her that it was going to be alright, but with every eye on him, he wasn't going to risk the attention that might bring. So instead, he settled for a discreet hand signal, directed at Eva.

_You're in charge._

And then he let them march him to a whole new hell.

* * *

"It's getting worse," Jondy's worried voice cut through the dead silence of the barracks as she hovered over Max's trembling form.

"'s not," Max managed to slur through chattering teeth as she clenched her fists and fought the trembling of her body.

They'd started the day after they'd taken Zack. At first it was small, just the faintest trembling of her hands. Nothing that couldn't be chalked up to nerves and anxiety – anxiety that only intensified with the thought of what they would do to her if they caught her shaking.

They were soldiers, the elite; they weren't supposed to feel fear and – if they did – they certainly weren't supposed to show it.

Jondy had been the first to notice it. They'd been huddled on her rack after lights out, making shapes with their fingers on the wall to pass the time when the bird Max had been trying to make started to shake.

"That's good," Jondy blinked in awe as the bird seemed to take flight, turning to congratulate Max again only to find the other female biting her lip as she fought to control the trembling.

"Max?" Max dropped her shaking hands with a frustrated growl, her gaze resting on them for a moment before raising up to meet Jondy's dead on.

"I can't get them to stop," she hissed, curling her fingers up into fists as she gritted her teeth, sweat tracks running down her face as her attempts to control the shaking continually failed.

"Let me see." While it was true Jondy had the most field med training save for Sky, the fact of the matter was unless it was bleeding or broken, she couldn't make heads or tails of it.

"Do you need to go to the infirmary?" The words were soft, barely making it past Jondy's lips, but she wanted to make sure.

"No!" Max whispered back, the word a harsh command on her lips, quickly followed by a relieved sigh.

"No," Max repeated, much calmer as she held up her now only slightly shaking hands. "It's getting better, see?"

And it was. The trembling slowed to barely noticeable measures before stopping altogether.

"See?" Max breathed out with a fatigued, but genuinely happy smile. "All better."

Jondy shared the smile, but couldn't keep the worry from her eyes.

What was it and why was it happening now?

Two days later, it was Jack.

They woke up to the heavy sound of flesh hitting metal and Eva's frantic scramblings.

"Jack!" With a death grip on one arm, Eva looked up, frantic eyed, as Ben scrambled from his own rack to take hold of the other flailing arm.

"Grab his legs," he ordered harshly. A confused but wide awake Coop was quick to obey, his unofficial twin Trip quickly scrambling to grab the other one.

"What's wrong with him?" Jace voiced what they were all thinking into the quiet.

"It looks like shock," Sky stated, maneuvering around Eva to lean over and take Jack's pulse, a frown forming. "But his pulse is racing. And his skin's hot."

"Jondy?" Seth asked, turning to look at the female in question who was huddled with Max, both of them staring pale-faced down at Jack.

"Jondy?" Seth repeated when she failed to respond the first time.

"Jondy, what is it? What's wrong?" Kneeling in front of her, well aware that their packs attention was now divided between the shaking Jack and pale faced duo, Seth gently cupped Jondy's face in his hands, carefully directing her line of sight to him.

"What's wrong?" he repeated. Jondy stared at him a heartbeat, blinking once before slowly dropping her gaze to where her left hand clutched Max's right.

Following her gaze, Seth noticed the trembling first. His initial assumption was fear, fear for Jack, fear of the unknown, but following the trembling hand to the trembling arm and up the trembling torso, his first glance of Max's face told a different story.

She had her bottom lip clenched between her teeth, the faintly sweet scent of flesh blood radiating from her mouth. And her face, there was fear, but there was also pain.

"Max?" Seth's tone had Ben looking over. Jack's shaking had slowed and, according to Sky, his pulse was dropping back to normal ranges and Ben could feel his skin temperature returning to normal as well.

"Jack?" Eva whispered, her worried expression morphing into a positively radiant smile when Jack opened his eyes and blinked at her.

"Hey," he whispered, smiling at her before he noticed the others all gathered around him. Frowning with confusion, he looked over at Seth, the highest ranking other than his sister.

"What's going on?"

"You're okay," Eva murmured, reaching up to run a hand over his crew cut. "You're okay."

Ben's relief that Jack was alright was short-lived, however, when he turned to find Max leaning against Jondy and shaking.

"Max?" He was on his feet in a flash, slipping to the other side of the female and supporting his share of her weight from Jondy, who was too busy holding Max's hand to notice.

"Are you okay, Max?"

"Fine," Max managed to get out through gritted teeth, letting out a faintly pained grunt, a faint trickle of blood from her lip slipping out of the corner of her mouth. Reaching up, Ben wiped it gently away before it could makes its way down her chin.

"Fine," Max repeated after a moment, and this time Ben could almost believe her.

Her expression evened out, still containing remnants of pain, but more smooth and calm than moments before.

"This is the second time she's gotten the shakes," Jondy stated tight lipped as she looked over at Seth.

"And Jack?" Jondy looked over at the older male, who was sitting upright in bed, leaning weakly against his sister.

"The third," Jack stated, thin voiced with a tired sigh.

"What?" Eva peered down at her brother, worry eyed and with a hint of disbelief. "You've been shaking like that and you hid it from me?"

"They haven't been that bad," Jack protested quickly. "And I didn't want you to worry."

"You should have told me," Eva protested right back. "I could have helped."

"I was afraid I might get you sick, too," Jack replied, his eyes resting on Max, guilt swimming in their depths. "But it's too late for that, isn't it?"

"I doubt you got her sick," Sky broke the bitter silence Jack seemed to be engulfing himself in.

"Really?" There was an obvious note of hope with a tinge of disbelief decorating that one word.

"Really," Sky replied, kneeling next to Max's right leg as he carefully checked her over.

"Think about it," he turned to look at the rest of their pack, huddled in the space between the two racks. "We go everywhere together. If you're getting sick from something, chances are pretty good Max is getting sick from the same thing and that the rest of us will, too."

"So we're all going to start shaking?" Becca clutched her arms tight around her middle as she looked over at Austin, who obediently folded her into his own embrace.

"Maybe," Sky replied, finishing his exam and resting his head on Max's bended knee as he looked over at Seth.

"Or maybe this is something else completely. I don't know."

Three words, almost chilling in their simplicity.

"Do you think Manticore knows?"

Syl's question went unanswered as Seth and Eva exchanged an uneasy look.

Chances were pretty good that knowing or not knowing, Manticore was going to take the first transgenics to develop this new sickness and experiment on them for a cure. And neither of them was willing to let their first victims be Max or Jack.

* * *

Zack came back on the fifth day. Straight-backed, eyes front, and skin several shades lighter than it had been less than a week before, he retook command from Eva without a word.

It wasn't unusual for Zack to be so stoic, but coupled with all the goings on, his silence made the pack nervous. And a nervous pack had trouble functioning.

"What the hell is wrong with you, 092?" Trainer Eddies snarled, yanking Cheyenne's rifle from her trembling hands as he expertly undid the jam before thrusting it back into her arms.

"Now shoot!" Still shaking, Cheyenne managed to get off an acceptable number of shots in an acceptable clustering, but Eddies was far from pleased.

"Next time do fucking better, 092, or so help me God…"

Cheyenne cringed under his open snarl, stepping back and dropping her gaze as Eddies let out another snarl before moving on down the line.

"You okay?" Tinga asked as soon as Eddies was out of sight.

"No," Cheyenne bit her lip and cast a quick glance around them before extending her hand and showing the trembling limb to Tinga.

Tinga's eyes widened and her jaw dropped open a little as she, too, did a quick scan of their surroundings.

"Is it getting worse?" She asked after a moment. Cheyenne chewed on her bottom lip for a long moment before slowly shaking her head.

"It started this morning," she offered, low voiced. "It hurts."

Tinga could tell. Cheyenne's expression was about as uncomfortable as it could get. Casting another furtive glance towards Eddie, she carefully reached across shooting lanes to take Cheyenne's hand in her own.

"It's okay, little sister," she offered with a comforting smile. "I've got your back."

Flashing Tinga a grateful smile, Cheyenne returned her attention to her rifle and target just as Eddies gave them the command to start firing.

* * *

Jack had another seizure that night. They'd been sleeping, all of them except Max and Jondy and, unknown to all of them, Zack, when the steady thump of squeaking metal had Max darting from her bed, Jondy on her heels as Zack sat upright and blinked in confusion.

"Jack!" Max hissed, reaching over to grab her brothers arm, grunting as his fist impacted against her ribs before she could get a grip.

"Jack!" Jondy echoed Max's hissing cry, expertly grabbing his other arm. Footsteps approached and she turned to find Zack standing there, staring at all three of them with obvious confusion.

"Grab his legs!" Jondy half-pleaded, half-ordered as she turned to look over at Eva, who was already awake and scrambling over.

"What's going on?" Zack asked with a grunt as he was forced to use all of his strength and body to keep Jack from kicking him in the ribs.

"The shakes," Jondy grunted, the tendons on her neck standing out in stark relief as she struggled to hold the seizing transgenic.

"Shakes?"

"They started getting them just after you left," Jondy explained a few moments later, letting out a relieved sigh as Jack's seizing started to slow. "First Max, then Jack."

"Just the two of them?" Zack leaned back as Jack's seizing quieted, his gaze on Jack but his question directed at Jondy.

"No," Tinga spoke from just behind him. Turning to glance over his shoulder, he wasn't surprised to find the rest of their pack grouped up on the racks across from Jack's, their expressions a mixture of confused, worried, and relieved.

"No?"

"I had them yesterday," Cheyenne stated from where she was comfortably tucked under Tinga's arm. "At the range."

"Your shooting…"

"Yes." Cheyenne was usually ranked pretty high in marksmanship, but yesterday she'd barely passed.

"What do we do?" Seth asked the question that was on all of their minds. Watching as Jack's body slipped from seizing to a peaceful sleep, Zack was quiet for a long moment, thinking.

"Zack?" Max prompted, her hand laying quietly against Jack's shoulder as Eva curled up around his head.

"Nothing." Zack's statement rang through the quiet room.

"Nothing?" Vada hugged herself as she stared at Zack. "Shouldn't they go to the infirmary? If they're sick, they need to be treated!"

"No," Zack snapped, jerking his head to glare at the eldest female. Vada quickly ducked her head and turned her body sideways, huddling into herself slightly. Reaching over to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, Seth gave Zack an almost unfriendly look as they waited for an explanation.

"That's an order," was all Zack said, though, as he climbed to his feet. "Back to your racks."

"But…" Cheyenne trailed off as Zack turned that hard-eyed stare on her.

"Yes, Sir," Tinga responded for all of them, her grip on Cheyenne firm as she directed the younger transgenic back to her rack.

Zack waited until the last of his pack had slipped back to sleep before returning to his rack, his entire body tense.

There was a reason he didn't want any of his pack going to the infirmary for this, a good one.

He'd been in that PSY-Ops cell for a long time, but he'd spent his fair share of time in the labs as well, and he hadn't been the only one.

He didn't know what the female X5 was in the labs for, only that whatever it was she had done had been bad enough that she was getting reindoctrination.

They'd been in the same lab, standing next to each other as they waited for their next sessions to begin, when she'd started shaking.

Assuming that she was simply afraid, Zack had clenched his fists in raw rage. It was one thing for them to do this to him – he was leader, he had to be stronger, and this made him stronger – but the female was definitely not a Squad Leader and they had no business making her that afraid.

Turning his head just slightly so he could see her more fully, he blinked in outright surprise when her eyes suddenly rolled up in her head and her body fell to the ground, seizing like crazy.

Jaw dropped and eyes wide, Zack had floundered for a moment. He had no idea what was going on and even less of an idea what to do. He'd never seen something like this.

"Sir!" He'd finally yelled, dropping to his knees next to the shaking female. He'd reached over to try and grab her, hold her or something, to try and help her, but her shaking was so bad…

"Oh, for fuck's sake," a lab tech had snapped as he came racing around the corner, five guards right on his heels.

"What the hell is that?" one of the guards had questioned, his hand instinctively resting on his weapon.

"Seizure," the lab tech had grunted, heading for a refrigerator in the corner and removing a vial of some clear liquid from inside.

"Hold her down," he'd instructed as he filled a syringe. The guards had moved to obey with much swearing and a lot of pained grunts as the females flailing limbs went every which way.

"Move!" One of the guards had snapped at Zack. Getting to his feet and stepping back, Zack had watched in sick fascination as the lab tech approached, waiting for a momentary lull in the seizing to jam the needle in the females neck.

A tense minute passed before the lab tech swore.

"It's not working," he snapped, capping the needle and tossing it in the biohazard bin with an annoyed expression.

"So what do we do with it?" one of the guards asked, the whole lot of them releasing the female and stepping back, rubbing their newly acquired injuries with unpleasant looks of disgust and disdain.

"Take it outside and shoot it," the lab tech ordered, turning to return to the lab. "It's the most merciful thing you can do."

"Merciful," one of the guards muttered, shaking his head as he stared down at the shaking transgenic. "Yeah. Right. Gleeson, Jakes, grab her arms."

Functioning in a fog like haze and stunned, Zack watched in horror as they dragged the female from the room, turning to follow her progress.

He watched them drag her out the door, watched the first guard draw his weapon as the door was closing.

Two shots, a double tap to the heart.

And silence. Dead, cold silence.

Zack wasn't going to let that happen to any of his pack. Not Jack, not Cheyenne, and definitely not Maxie.

He'd die first.

* * *

**March, 2009**

Jack was seizing again.

"Get his arms – "

"I've got his leg –"

"Watch it!"

"Becca!" Austin's cry practically rang through the room as Becca lost her grip on one of Jack's flailing limbs and went skidding across the room.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," Becca waved off Austin's concern, gingerly flexing the elbow that had impacted on the floor before offering the older transgenic a tired smile. "See?"

They were all tired. More and more of them were seizing, but Jack was the worse by far. And Max, Max was running a close second.

With each passing day, Zack could feel the weighty stares of his command staff as he steadily refused to allow any of his pack to be taken to the infirmary for treatment of this new disease, a disease Zack was steadily starting to believe wasn't a disease at all.

"They're slowing down," Eva's relieved voice was more welcome than anything at that moment.

"His heart rates going back to normal," Sky's quiet voice had all of them relaxing, though there was still a certain degree of tension in the room.

Across the room, Seth had his mouth set in a firm line and he practically vibrated with tension. Vada was too worried about Jack as was Eva, but Ben was doing nothing but watching him which was why, hours later when everybody including Max and Jondy were back in their racks, he wasn't surprised to find Ben standing over him, even though he hadn't heard so much as a rustle.

"Why?" Sitting up in his rack, Zack watched Ben for a long moment before jerking his head towards the window.

All of the windows had bars on them, but through a stroke of luck and persistence a couple of years ago, they'd discovered the ones on the far left were loose. They'd managed to wiggle them out far enough for them to be able to slip through in order to go to the roof, the only place in the entire facility they were positive wasn't under surveillance.

Now, settling in the High Place, as they'd come to call it, Zack surveyed the land below before speaking.

He told Ben everything about Psy-Ops. Everything they'd done to him, everything he'd seen. He told him about the girl, about the seizures and how the guards had shot her for them. And he told him about the others.

"Manticore knows about the seizures?" That had stunned Ben to his core; he'd always had faith that Manticore would take care of them. Always. War was dangerous and soldiers died, but up until this point, he'd always placed blame on the actual killers and not on the brass itself.

But now…

"They're killing us."

"Yes." It was a quiet, yet profound, statement, one that, up until this moment, Zack hadn't really considered true. But now…

"Why?"

"We're defective," Zack stated. "Anomalies."

Ben visibly jerked at that; he hated anomalies.

They scared him. They scared all of them, but they scared Ben especially hard. When they were little, he'd gotten sent to the basement for screwing up on range. He'd forgotten to check his weapon before firing and ended up with a misfire that not only ruined the gun, but lodged several metal shards in his forearm.

As punishment, they'd sent him to the basement without removing the shards. He'd been down there for a week.

His cell was cold, dank, and surrounded by nomalies. They lived next to him, they roamed the halls and at night, they howled. They made noise, they ran the halls, they screamed, and some of them threw themselves at his door, panting and drooling.

"Hungry," they would utter with guttural growls immediately followed by either cackling laughter or soul chilling growls.

He hadn't slept the entire time. He'd huddle into a corner miserable, cold, bleeding and afraid to move.

For that one week, he'd been like the animal they accused him of being. But he'd been weak, afraid, and alone.

When they finally removed him and brought him to the infirmary, he'd been in a waking coma. Nothing they had done could yank him from his stupor.

They'd actually been talking about disassembling him when Zack had entered the infirmary with Max.

He'd said that the Colonel had given him orders to retrieve his soldier and presented the papers to the doctors for inspection.

Zack remembered that time just as well as Ben, only for a far different reason.

That was the first actual deviation he'd made from command.

The Colonel had never given him orders to retrieve Ben.

He'd missed his stories and his presence. He could say that now without flinching, but then it had been considered a major weakness on his part, his attachment to a single soldier.

He'd forged the papers with Max and Jondy's help. They were badly done and not even close to appearing as official orders, but the doctors weren't military trained and had foolishly believed them.

He'd gotten Ben back and he'd never gotten reprimanded for his methods. To this day, Zack wasn't even sure Command even knew about what they'd done.

"They can't have him." Zack jerked back to the present, his eyes focusing on Ben who had taken his place in staring at the grounds below them. "I won't them have him. Any of them."

"I won't either." Zack had made many promises, all of which he had kept, but none of them were as important as this one.

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know." It was a startling realization to suddenly know that Zack didn't have all the answers. Zack's head dipped low, as if shamed by that fact, and Ben found himself blinking away his surprise at the admission to shake his head with renewed determination.

"We'll figure something out."

"Yes." Zack agreed, but there was a hesitant note to the single word that had Ben turning his head once more to give his CO a curious look.

"Don't tell the others. Not Max, not Jack. And not Eva."

"Seth?"

"I'll tell him," Zack promised, reassuring a very confused Ben. "I just don't want the others to worry. Not until we know for sure what's going on."

"They won't tell us, will they? Manticore? They're not going to tell us what's wrong."

"No, they aren't." Zack was quiet for a moment before turning to Ben. "We're going to have to find out for ourselves."

"How?"

"I don't know. Yet," Zack hastily added. "I don't know yet, but I'm going to find out."

"And I'm going to help you."

* * *

May, 2009

Ben's nostrils were flaring even as his fists clenched behind his back.

_Just a few more seconds…_

Inspections were a long, arduous process, but this one seemed to be going on forever.

Jack was struggling, visibly sweating and biting his lip, the acrid odor of fresh blood filling the room as his teeth went clean through.

It felt like he had a thousand bullets traveling through the back of his skull, the metal fragments slicing through his veins in excruciating waves of pain.

He'd been fine last night, the time when the seizures usually hit, but this morning he'd woken up with the tell-tale trembling of his hands.

He'd fought against the Shakes though, with every fiber of his being, struggling to keep it hidden from the others, Eva especially.

He'd succeeded admirably, too, until about halfway through the inspection.

His body had given a powerful jerk, sending him a half step out of line. He managed to correct the mistake before a Trainer could spot it, but everyone in the Squad had seen it and knew what it meant.

Tension radiated through the room as the Trainer slammed the last footlocker closed before straightening and turning to face the rest of them.

"Passable," was all he grunted, his expression sour as he motioned the guards to follow him out the door with an aggressive wave.

"Catch him!"

"The door!" Zack ordered, motioning for Seth to take up the guard position as Ben slid forward, catching Jack's upper body before it could impact the floor.

Eva was there in an instant, pushing Ben aside as she shoved a hastily grabbed sheet into his mouth to keep him from choking on his tongue.

Ben moved to an arm, Zack taking up position on the other side of him as Sky hovered next to Eva. Max and Jondy had one leg and Austin and Hawk were leaning on the other.

"Time," Zack barked, looking to Tinga.

"We've got five minutes until we have to be on the parade ground."

Zack grunted as Jack's body bowed under another wave of shaking.

"Everybody, get ready. Becca, Brin, can you guys get the rest of our stuff ready?"

"Yes, Sir," Brin replied, moving silently and pale faced to obey.

Three minutes and twenty-seven seconds later, Jack's shaking slowed.

"Max, Jondy, Austin; get dressed," Zack ordered tersely, his eyes on Jacks face as awareness slowly returned.

A four minutes and forty-five seconds, they had Jack dressed and Eva was frantically tucking her shirt into her fatigues as she hustled her brother out the door.

They made it onto the parade ground with five seconds to spare.

Sliding in position next to Seth, Zack met his thirds troubled eyes with his own.

The shakes were getting worse.

And they still didn't have any answers.

* * *

A week went by; a surprisingly quiet, shake-free week and Zack took advantage of the lull to aggressively seek answers to their questions.

His avenues concerning a direct approach were severely limited if not completely impossible, so he sought out other means of obtaining and collecting knowledge.

He hacked, he cracked; he spied, snuck, and played a delicate balance of word games to try and gain answers and came up suspiciously empty.

It was like somebody was cleansing their records; like every instance of anyone having any problems was wiped from public and private access.

There were fifteen levels of security to a Manticore computer system and Zack had cracked all of them except the top echelon.

He had his objective in sight and was two days of executing his self-assigned mission when all hell broke loose.

A/N: Please! Please! _Please! _**Review!**

I _might _be motivated to update faster *hint, hint, nudge, nudge*


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **I like writing this fic. Tell me if you like reading it!

**June, 2009**

She was shaking, shaking, _shaking_ and she was scared to death.

This was how they'd lost Dennis. He'd started shaking one night and he didn't stop until his heart did.

They'd taken him away in the morning, with no explanation, leaving them with the distinct feeling that his death was not something Manticore had planned on.

So if it hadn't been an experiment, than what had it been?

Raven, X5-534, curled up in the fetal position, biting her bottom lip in an effort to keep any noises from escaping.

The rest of her squad were still in the showers; they'd gotten in late from a training mission and Raven, feeling sick, had taken a quick shower before heading off to her rack for an extra fifteen minutes of sleep.

She'd collapsed before she'd even reached her rack.

Now, lying here, shaking, she closed her eyes and whispered quiet prayers to deities she wasn't even sure existed in the hope that they'd listen and grant her wish, making the shaking stop.

It hurt worse than being tasered, even worse than Interrogation Resistance and Information Retrieval exercises.

She was in so much pain, the agony shooting up and down every nerve ending, she didn't even hear the door open.

* * *

Crash was smiling slightly as he listened to Brooke, 114, chatter away about some new slang word she learned from listening to the infirmary nurses when he heard the sound of flesh hitting metal.

His gaze darted toward the source of the sound and he found himself swearing as he realized Raven wasn't in her rack.

He darted forward, Maze, 316, his SIC, centimeters behind him.

"Shit," Maze swore, dropping to his haunches as they hovered over Raven rapidly shaking form.

His gaze rose and met Crash's, his every thought echoed in the other transgenics gaze.

Not all of them got the shakes, but the one's who did usually didn't get them this bad. The last one in their squad who'd been shaking this bad…

There'd been Dennis, who died among them, then there'd been Cleo, who'd been dragged from the room after collapsing during morning roll call.

Adie, 213, had been the one to sneak out to try and find her.

She'd been shaking in the infirmary bed, a team of doctors standing over her, watching the machines she'd been hooked up to.

At first, Adie had thought they were helping. Cleo's shaking was reducing, her heart rate returning to normal, the spikes on her EEG going from high and low to evening out just around the middle.

Adie had been so relieved, about to turn around and report the good news back to her CO, when one of the doctors had spoken.

"Again." She watched, with undisguised horror, as they injected Cleo with something, something that started the shaking all over again.

Tears streaming down her face, she bit her hand to keep from screaming as Cleo's EEG spiked higher and higher until…

She stroked out. Her entire body went rigid for ten long, eternity spanning seconds, before collapsing back to the mattress, utterly still.

She'd waited for them to jump, to bring out the crash carts, the drugs, anything to resuscitate her sister, but they did nothing.

"Call it. Time of death, 0230. Prep her for harvest and save the brain. I want to study it further."

It'd taken three hours for Crash to get the whole story out of a sobbing, in shock Adie.

It'd been bad enough losing Cleo, Crash wasn't sure they could survive losing Raven to the same twisted experiment.

"She's getting better," Alyx, 547, noted after a moment. At first Crash thought she was just speaking out loud, trying to impress upon the younger ones that things weren't as bad as they looked, but with a second glance, he realized Alyx was right. Raven's shaking was slowing, her breathing evening out. She was covered in a light layer of sweat, but the flush of her features was mellowing back into her usual mocha color.

"She's going to be okay," Nila, 663, their oldest female, stated, reaching forward to brush her hand across the younger girls face.

They were so focused on their fallen packmate they didn't think to be alert for the guards.

"What the hell are you doing out of your racks, Squad 9?" Crash's head jerked around to stare, wide eyed, at the guard standing there, hand on his taser as he scowled down at them.

_Little freaks_, the guard was thinking, pulling his taser, all the more willing to use it to get this animals back where they were supposed to be, when he saw the shaking form they were all hovering protectively over.

He didn't recognize it; he couldn't even identify it as male or female, but he recognized what was wrong with the damn thing.

They'd told them to be on alert for this; some of the units were prone to seizures and, if he found one, he was to escort the shaking transgenic to the infirmary for further study.

"Gracin!" He hollered for his partner as he reached down to grab the shaking transgenic.

"Move," he ordered harshly, giving the freak Squad's CO a none-too-light shove to punctuate his statement.

"What are you going to do with her?" The kid CO shot back, rocking back into a protective hunch over the fallen soldier.

_Must be female_, the guard thought. Damn freaks were always to damn protective of their goddamn females.

"None of your business, soldier. Now _move_!" He lashed out with his taser, using it as a club, and smacking the male across his face with enough force to send him sprawling back.

He grinned at the stunned look the kid wore, his last mistake.

Maze moved so fast the guard was dead before he even realized there were hands around his neck.

Shaking his head to get rid of the fog the blow had generated, Crash glanced at the dead body for a moment before turning his attention to the doorway where the guards partner was just entering.

Launching himself from the floor, he slammed into the fully grown ordinary male and rode him to the ground, snapping his neck after a moments struggle.

He was hunched over the dead body when he sensed movement next to him. Turning his head slightly, he found his squad watching him.

Maze had a hand on Nila's shoulder, the other transgenic cradling a barely conscious Raven in her arms. Alyx leaned in next to Nila, her expression surprisingly blank. On the other side of Alyx, Cole had his arms wrapped around Brooke, cradling the smaller transgenics head against his chest, blocking her view of the two dead bodies.

Emit and Cid stood with Greg and Jada, the four friends in a V formation, bodies angled, eyes watching their CO as they waited for orders. Carr stood with Lynn and Hope, while Duke had his arm slung around a motionless Adie. She stared, dry eyed at him, her expression making it perfectly clear she felt no remorse, no mercy, for what had just been done.

Buck and Damian were tense, ready for battle, a feral grimace echoed by Hope who stood just in front of them, waiting to attack, to defend, like their instincts demanded.

The last four, Heath, Ridge, Wes, and Vera were huddled close, practically on top of each other, their small bodies vibrating with tension, the whole of them waiting for his orders.

"Maze," Crash blinked as the one word emerged, a low growl, his voice barely recognizable as his. Maze straightened from his crouch, regarding his CO with eyes just a little too bright, a little too feral.

"Grab his gun."

* * *

Zack snapped awake before the first alarm was even finished blaring, the gesture echoed all around the barracks.

"What the hell-?" Rubbing his eyes, Blue jerked his head towards the windows as a search light went streaking past, practically blinding him.

"Are we under attack?" Jace sat up next to him, her soldiers mask firmly in place as she fixed her gaze on their CO.

Zack was quiet, listening, but keeping his silence until he had a better idea of what was happening.

Peering out the window, Zack was focusing in on the guards patrolling in their winter suits outside the windows when a blurring figure caught his eye.

Jerking his head around, he caught sight of the shaved head the same time as Ben.

"They're escaping," Ben breathed, because it was the only logical conclusion he could come up with as to why the alarms were sounding and the snowmobiles were being taken out.

"Which Squad?" Cheyenne pressed her small body closer to the window, disregarding the fact that she was practically squished against Austin and Sky. Next to Austin, Becca was standing on her tip toes, trying to see what it was her siblings were looking at.

"I can't tell," Zack replied, squinting with his vision until the transgenic in the woods turned, offering him a brief flash of her barcode.

331400175213. Squad 9.

"Squad 9," he informed his squad, watching with sinking gut as a TAC Team cornered the female transgenic.

"No!" Jondy jerked in sympathy as 213's small form went tumbling to the ground.

"Can you hear anything?" Vada chewed on her bottom lip and hugged herself as she stood back, away from the windows, not wanting to watch. Seth glanced over at her momentarily before abandoning his window side view and pulling her into his arms.

"Give me a second," Ben, with the best hearing of all of them, strained his hearing, Max doing the same opposite him, as the rest of their squad went quiet, waiting for their report.

_{…one dead, over}_

_{Which one?} _Came the Colonel's harsh demand.

_{X5-254, Sir.}_

_{And the other two?}_

_{547 and 588.}_

_{Bring them in. All of them. Lock 547 and 588 in the brig, and send 254's body to the labs for harvest.}_

_{Understood, Sir.}_

"They caught two of them," Ben whispered back to his Squad.

"And one's dead," Max finished.

"Who?"

"547 and 588 were caught. 254's dead."

"254?" Becca whispered, eyes wide and disbelieving as she huddled closer to Austin's side, his arms coming up and around to engulf her in the vain attempt to protect her from the cold harsh news.

"Do you hear that?" Zack's attention snapped to the door, the sound of marching feet having him on alert.

"Everybody in your racks. Now!"

They scrambled to obey, the last of them, Eva, landing in her rack just as the door slammed open.

There was no yell, no order. Just chaos as guards poured into the room.

They yanked them from their beds, sent them crashing to the floor before kicking them back to their feet.

Little Becca stumbled, going down after a guard grabbed her too high on the arm for leverage. The guard drew back his foot and booted her right in the ribs, a tell tale crack echoing through the room.

Another crack followed quickly as Austin, without ceremony or thought, broke the guys neck.

There was a lot grunt as a rifle butt was unceremoniously slammed into his shoulder, a reward for his rebellion.

Zack snarled and snapped, pushing his squad back as he inserted his medium sized frame between them and the guards.

"Stand down, 599!" Cutler roared from the doorway, his hands clenched into fists, but empty of any weapons. Two more Trainers crowded the doorway behind him, Trainer Steele and Trainer Harkness.

Cutler swore as 599's eyes, already black with rage, seemed to widen and increase in ferocity at the sight of Harkness.

_Stupid fucks_, he thought, reaching behind him and shoving Harkness back, ignoring the other man's protest.

None of the X5's on site were particularly fond of the majority of the Trainer's, but 599 fucking hated Harkness with a passion that rivaled just about anything.

If he could snap his neck and get away with it, Cutler had no doubt that Harkness would be a dead man by now.

Whoever had sent Harkness down here to help roust this particular unit was a fucking idiot.

Granted, they were still scrambling to make sense of things. As far as they knew, Squad 9 was the only one making a break for it, but up until about fifteen minutes ago, they hadn't even had the Squad number.

Some moron not even worth his weight in dirt had dialed the emergency line. He'd been half sobbing, halfway to full on hysteria, and making very little sense.

All they'd managed to receive loud and clear was that there was a squad making a break for it in Block 15.

Squad 10 had been secured immediately as had the remains of Squad 9, two members who hadn't made a break for the fence.

Both Squads had been transferred to Psy-Ops, a rush job if there ever was one. Cutler wasn't even sure all of them had made it; they'd put Hanson in charge of the count and everybody and their mother knew Hanson was the most unreliable fuck on base.

Things had surely gone to shit, and Cutler wasn't about to let anybody in Squad 3 end up dead because of it.

Shoving Harkness out the door, he faced the snarling man with a rage all his own.

"You step one fucking foot in that door, and I put a bullet in your brain. Clear?" It wasn't an idle threat; seven years in this hell hole coupled with all his years of training on the outside had taught him to uselessness of that. If you were gonna threaten somebody, you made damn sure to follow through.

He'd proven his meddle time and time again; Harkness went down with a sneer and a snarled threat, but he backed down.

Turning his attention back to the Squads in Block 12, Cutler caught the eye of the trainer down the hall.

"Is Squad 4 secure?" He called out.

"All present and accounted for, Sir," came Sergeant Lowell's drawled reply.

Trainer Lowell was a good man. Cutler and him and served together in Delta and Cutler didn't have to ask him anything beyond that. With some confidence he turned his attention back to Squad 3.

They were breathing heavy, their fallen members remaining on their floor, bodies tense as the guards brandished their weapons in an open threat.

"Put them away," Cutler ordered, voice frigid. The guard exchanged uneasy looks but obeyed, most of them somewhat reluctantly.

Manticore trained most of these guards with the false belief that a gun and a bullet was all that it took to keep their charges in line.

Manticore, Cutler had long ago decided, was run by a bunch of fucking idiots.

The guards called the X-series animals, treated them as such because not only did they have animal DNA and tendencies, but all of them had seen the basement freaks.

More animal that human, their outward appearance was a reflection of the X-series inward appearance.

It only took a few idiots to assume that just because they were pure human they were better.

More than one X-series had lost their life because of that damn mentality.

Cutler didn't tolerate it; you shot an X-series on his watch without a damn good reason, you got a bullet in the head.

Command liked it; not only did it help preserve their experiments, but it was an expedient, hands-off way of getting rid of problems.

Now, standing in the room with all these guards, he saw that knowledge in each and every one of their eyes.

599 was watching him, appearance deceptively relaxed, but Cutler knew from experience that if he made any threatening moves towards his squad, 599 could take him out in a matter of seconds, if even that long.

"Help them up," Cutler nodded to the one's on the floor.

102 pulled 819 gently to her feet, running his hands down her side, face tightening as the small female let out a pained cry as he hit an obviously broken rib.

798 and 734 hauled 525 to his feet, the X5 ignoring their probing hands as he turned his attention to 819, drawing her gently into his side and snarling, teeth bared, at the guard responsible for her injury, death in his eyes.

Cutler tensed, opening his mouth to yell, but 599 beat him to it.

He didn't say anything; he didn't have to. His body vibrated, briefly, with a low pitched noise that Cutler, who had unusually good hearing considering all his tours of duty, could barely hear.

As one, the squad shifted from tense to alert, muscles moving into that relaxed stage, echoing their CO.

The other two X5's on the floor, 493 and 210, were being fussed over by 452 and 263. 210 had one arm slung around 452's waist, hugging the slightly bigger female to her, while 766 and 417 crowded both her and 493. 263 shot 766 a look that Cutler couldn't decipher, but whatever it meant had the female relaxing again.

The rest of the Squad watched them with the eyes of a true apex predator, just waiting for the first sign of a threat to attack.

"The entire facility has been put into lockdown," Cutler stated without further preamble. "Until further orders are delivered, you are to remain in your barracks. Any attempt to exit your barracks without permission and an armed guard will result in your being shot. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Staff Sergeant!" Twenty-six voices chorused. 819 winced again, her ribs obviously protesting the pressure placed upon them by speaking and Cutler resisted, strongly, the urge to order her to the infirmary.

His orders were clear; all the X5's stayed were they were until Command could come up with a plan on what to do with them.

It'd only been an hour since the initial escape and he was operating on limited information. He knew that there were at least three members of Squad 9 in the infirmary, two of them shot, one of them suffering from a rather severe third degree burn as a result of the tasers.

Two more were already in Psy-Ops, along with the all of Squad 10, who had been judged immediately as a secondary threat. They'd shared Block 15 with Squad 9 since they were kids. They were paired for group exercises and ate meals at the same table. Their level of interaction was high enough that Command was almost positive whatever had prompted Squad 9's defection could easily evoke the same response from Squad 10.

They'd spend the next twenty-four hours doing an initial clean-up, erecting perimeters to try and catch any that might have made it over the fence.

A Review Board was already being assembled. Cutler knew within the next forty-eight hours he'd be standing in front of them, defending not only his job, but his life.

That Board would decide what do to with the rest of the X5's and Cutler was even more worried about that.

These kids were potential soldiers, yes, but they were also living, breathing people. They had hopes, fears, dreams, and they obviously, at least to him, loved each other.

Cutler knew if he died, there'd be somebody to take his place; not every Trainer on site was a bastard like Appleby or a sick fuck like Harkness. If one of these kids died…

They were fucking special, they meant not only a better future, but a safer one. They deserved some goddamn respect, not to be treated like disobedient puppies, killed when they no longer obeyed without question.

It wouldn't matter to the Review Board.

"Meals will be delivered during your regular eating hours. Two guards will be posted at either door until lockdown is lifted."

"Inside or outside?" 353 interrupted, breaking all sorts of protocol. Normally, Cutler would be on his ass so fast his head would spin, but the kid wasn't asking to be a pain in the ass. He was asking, his face a mask of concern, his arms wrapped protectively around a trembling, unusually pale, normally olive-skinned 344.

"Outside," Cutler decided, despite the fact that it'd been highly recommended that he keep the guards inside.

The windows in here were barred, though, and they'd been locked from outside. It would take more strength than they currently had to open them, and it'd make one hell of a noise. If they tried to escape, he could have guards in the room before they even managed to break the seal on the window.

They did that strange alert-relax thing again and it made Cutler feel a lot better with his choice.

He motioned with his hands for the guards to take their positions, waiting until the last one went past to turn his attention back to 599.

"Keep them quiet," he ordered, voice low. "You do not want to be causing trouble right now, 599."

"Yes, Sir," 599 took his warning to heart, motioning for his squad to return to their racks.

Zack watched Cutler walk out the door, his respect for the man solidifying with that quietly murmured warning.

"What are they going to do with us?" Trust Max to get the heart of the matter. She was curled between Jondy and Ben, with Jack and Eva right behind them, the five of them overcrowding the bunk.

Two years ago they would have been able to fit, easy. Now, with their rate of growth, they were lucky if they could fit two in a rack, let alone five.

"I don't know," Zack replied with complete honesty. It was unprecedented; they had no training with regards to circumstances such as these.

Why would they? It wasn't like Manticore had expected their pet projects to make a break for it. They were supposed to be too well trained, too well brainwashed.

"Indoctrination," Seth stated, finishing Zack's thought for him. "We'll have to go through it again."

Indoctrination had been a steady part of their training ever since any of them could remember. It'd gotten better through the years. When it had first started, they'd been punished with beatings and taser shocks when they failed to behave in the proper manner expected of them by Manticore.

Lately, it'd simply been a few hours a day in the classroom, listening to the steady click of the slides, specifically designed to cue certain areas of the brain. The lights, the sounds, everything was a subtle manipulation of the senses designed to enforce Manticore's goals.

Zack wasn't sure when, but somewhere down the line, it'd stopped working.

Probably it was about the same time they figured out that Manticore had no problems killing them for no good reason.

If they started it up again, it'd probably be just as bad as before, if not worse.

"What else?" Sean's voice was solemn as they exchanged looks.

"Psy-Ops?" Syl ventured, turning her head from Krit's chest to look at the rest of them.

"For all of us?" Jace arched an eyebrow doubtfully.

X5's going to Psy-Ops, save for Advanced Interrogation Training, always went in as individuals or in small groups after various incidents.

Would they seriously put a whole Squad in?

Zack didn't bother asking the other questions. They wouldn't know how long, and there was no way they could predict if they'd be reassigned or allowed to remain in their current squad.

"How long til they decide what to do with us?" Cheyenne asked, voice quiet as she sat in a huddle with Zane, Trip, and Coop.

"Could be a couple of hours," Austin stated, voice pained as he flexed the shoulder he'd been hit in. Becca lay on the bunk, flat on her back next to him, her breathing labored but dry, indicating a broken rib but no internal damage.

"Days?" Mercy inquired, body attentive as she processed information and tried to decide on a likely probable outcome.

"Doubtful," Jack stated, the voice of reason. "The longer we're in here without an explanation, the longer we have to come to our own conclusions about what happened and Manticore isn't going to want to risk that."

"So twenty-four hours, then?" Cheyenne asked.

"We can't know for sure," Zack spoke, cutting off all speculation. "Until then, study your books, sleep, or talk quietly. Stay away from the windows and doors and come to me first if you have to use the head."

The Pack moved quietly to obey, Max huddling in a pile with her four companions, struggling to keep her body still as she fought the urge to panic.

Sky had ripped up a spare set of sheets and was wrapping Becca's ribs as Austin hovered protectively.

Seth was cradling Vada to his chest, Kavi sitting crosslegged on the rack in front of them, talking quietly, telling stories and bringing Vada out of her funk as she reached out and gave him a gentle shove and a soft smile.

Lying in his own rack and staring up at the ceiling, Zack kept his sense alert for possible threats as he sunk deeper into his own thoughts.

The only conclusion that he could come to with any reasonable certainty was that things were about to change.

He had the sinking feeling that they were going to get decidedly worse.

* * *

The Colonel paced his office angrily, stress balls in hand as he snarled and ripped the poor bastard who'd entered his office apart.

"Where the fuck are those kids!" He roared, throwing first one, then the second ball at the Tech's head.

The tech ducked the first and barely dodged the second, his red face getting redder as sweat dripped down the color of his shirt, creating an unflattering stain on his white dress shirt.

"We managed to catch ten, Sir."

"What is that? Some sort of an accomplishment?" the Colonel had the tech's neck in his hands seconds later.

"You let twelve of them get away!" The sound of breaking cartilage and desperate wheezing filled the office as Staff Sergeant Cutler entered the office.

"Sir!" He saluted, his gaze on the wall, firmly ignoring the display before him as he waited for Lydecker to acknowledge him in whatever way he saw fit.

"Cutler," the Colonel released the tech, his body dropping to the ground like a sack of potatoes, his chest rising and falling as he just barely managed to breath through a broken trachea. If he didn't get medical attention soon, it was unlikely he'd make it.

The Colonel didn't give a rats ass.

The X-series were his program, his life's work. He'd staked not only his career on them, but his reputation as well.

He'd killed his wife for this fucking program, and now it was all about to go up in flames, literally if certain people got their way.

"Give me a report on the others. Are they asking questions?"

"They're keeping quiet, Sir," Cutler reported, mentally wincing as the tech on the floor stopped breathing.

_Another one bites the dust, _he thought with a sort of grim amusement.

_Not my problem._

"Good. The Review Board has already convened. Orders are to keep the Squads in lockdown for the remainder of the week. Here's a list of the X5's that are to be transferred to Psy-Ops for immediate evaluation. I want to you handle the transfers, especially with my kids."

"Sir?" Cutler accepted the list, noting with a detached calm that six of the designations belonged to Squad 3, and curious as to why Lydecker would pick him to oversee things.

"You'll handle it efficiently," the Colonel replied with a wave of his hand. "I want this whole thing finished ASAP. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Dismissed."

Cutler turned to exit the office.

"Oh, and Cutler?" Cutler turned his head back around to look at his Commanding Officer.

Lydecker waved his hand at the dead tech, an expression of supreme disgust on his face.

"Have them send someone in here to clean up this mess."

* * *

Cutler started with Block 20, ignoring Trainer McHugh's curious look as he collected the three X5's he'd been sent for.

"Fall in," he ordered, face void of expression, voice flat.

The three X5's, two males and one female, had exchanged confused expressions with the remains of their squads, but followed his orders without verbal questions.

By the time he'd reached Block 12, where Squad's 3 and 4 were, he'd collected a staggering 66 X5's following him.

_It's like a fucking parade_, Cutler decided with a shake of his head as he pushed the hatch open for Squad 3.

"599, 353, 525, 766, 344, and 493. Fall in. 102, you're in charge with 399 as your acting Second until further notice."

The six X5's who's designations he'd called joined the end of the line, bringing his total up to 72.

He had two more stops to make before he could bring this thing to an end.

He wasn't looking forward to them anymore than he had the last sixteen.

* * *

"He's coming back," Max's voice was shaky as she tightly gripped Jondy's hand.

"Yes," Jondy murmured, her response just as much of a question as Max's has been despite their attempts to make it a statement.

"He didn't give us any other orders," Switch pointed out, voice quiet. "Does this mean we're going back to training?"

All eyes turned to Blue, who was handling the change in command with about as much grace as he could, only the faint lines around his eyes and mouth betraying his anxiety at the situation as hand.

"We stay here until ordered otherwise," he decided. "They haven't lifted lockdown yet and getting shot really isn't something I look forward to."

His attempt at humor fell flat; the pack curled up around themselves, softly, quietly, the remaining twenty mourning the loss of the other six, waiting and wondering about not only their missing packmates fates, but their own as well.

* * *

**Cheyenne, WY**

"It's beautiful," Nila huddled into herself, wrapping her arms around the trunk of her body as she shivered with cold.

Next to her, Maze grunted his acknowledgement, carefully slinging an arm over her shoulders and pulling her close as the first rays of the morning sun broke over the horizon.

"Do you think the others made it?" There was a note of desperate hope to her words that had Maze tightening his grip.

He was in awe of the outside world – the colors, the shapes, even the smells – but that couldn't distract him from the worry about the rest of his pack.

Were they safe? Did they make it to the fence, or had they been dragged back into that hellhole?

Would he ever get to see them again?

"I don't know," he answered honestly, burying his face in her neck and inhaling the familiar scent of pack – of family.

"I don't know," he repeated on an exhale. "But someday, we'll find out, won't we?"

"Yes."

They were few things Nila was certain of anymore, but that was definitely one of them; Manticore would never stop looking for them.

They would never be able to stop running.

And she would never give up hope of finding the others, but she knew in her heart that if they ever came for her – if Manticore ever found her – she would die first before she let them take her back.

She'd fought for her freedom – bled for it.

And now she was willing to die for it.

**A/N: **Two updates in two days definitely deserves some sort of praise, right? Review! (Please) ;D


	8. Chapter 8

**June, 2009**

The first twenty-four hours after Squad 9's defection had been the most confusing time of Jace's life.

What was going to happen to the ones they caught? What happened to the one's who got away?

Was Manticore going to punish the rest of them? If so, for how long and how much?

Would they live to see tomorrow?

They lived.

They'd started with six, taking Zack, Seth, and Eva, their command staff away, and Austin, Vada, and Ben at the same time.

Jace had been worried to death that they were being singled out, that they'd be punished and come back changed, different.

She shouldn't have worried.

An escape hadn't been part of Manticore's carefully crafted plans for their science experiments, a breaking of their carefully cultured rules.

What was a few more?

Less than twelve hours after Zack and the others had been marched from their barracks, the rest of Squad 3 had been ordered down the hall to Psy-Ops.

They'd separated them, slamming them into separate cells in separate sections with snarled curses and few kicks.

And then…nothing.

Quiet.

Silence.

They'd left them in their cold cells, with the cameras in the corners watching. That'd been nearly seven hours ago.

Panic, nearly pure and overwhelming, had been her initial reaction. She'd wasted precious energy pounding at the door in an effort to get out, to get away from the cold gray walls that seemed to be closing in on her. This was her first trip to a Psy-Ops cell outside of training and it brought back nothing but bad memories.

Hours of agony, of being tortured, beat down, mentally raped. Of having her every thought dissected under a microscope while they made her scream with pain.

She'd heard the cries of her siblings, her pack, echoing. They screamed from physical pain and agony, but also from the knowledge that they were separated. They couldn't comfort each other, touch each other.

They were alone.

It was the worse kind of torture Manticore could have devised.

And now, here she was, leaning against the door of her cell, listening for movement of any kind, and wondering, idly, from sheer exhaustion, who exactly was in the block with her.

Nobody she knew personally; none of the scents were that of her pack or Squad 4, which had been housed in the same block as them since their Squad had been formed.

"This is boring."

Jace started, jerking forward, muscles going numb from her stagnant position of the past few hours causing her to bang her head, rather painfully, against the three inch thick metal door.

"Ouch," she moaned, hissed murmurs of sympathy echoing through the block.

"How many of us are there?" Another voice, female, asked.

"How should I know?" The first voice responded, causing Jace to grin faintly. He reminded her of Trip and Coop. Loud mouthed, kind of annoying, and with almost no functioning common sense.

"Start with a roll call," Jace offered, faint amusement coloring her words, the memory of Trip and Coop eliciting fond feelings.

Those feelings faded as she remembered her current situation.

"I'll go first. X5-798 from Squad 3."

"I'm 562 from Squad 7," the female voice from earlier stated.

"023 from Squad 12," the cheeky male from before stated, voice still optimistically upbeat. Jace felt her lips quirk again.

There were seven of them in this particular block.

248 from Squad 2 had the first cell, with 023 the smartass directly across from him. 685 from Squad 20 was next to 248, 277 from Squad 6 was next to Jace, 981 from Squad 14 was directly across from her, and 562 from Squad 7 had the last cell.

"What's going on?" 981 asked, his voice quiet yet authoritative.

Jace perked up a bit, recognizing the tone. 981 was at least an SIC, she'd bet her life on that.

"One of the Squads tried to escape," 562 supplied, her voice dry and very matter of fact.

"Escape?" 248's disbelief was palatable.

"Which one?" 277 broke in.

"Squad 9," Jace replied. "We saw them running from our barracks window."

"Why?" 685 asked, her voice quiet. "Who would want to live in filth and chaos with those _ordinaries_?" 685 used the same inflection on that last word that the guards used when they were calling them freaks and animals.

"I don't know," Jace replied, lying for the sake of the camera. She loved being a soldier. She loved pushing herself to achieve just a little bit more, but she loved her pack most of all.

If someone had threatened her pack, she would have run too.

"Quiet!" Came the roar from the end of the block, the guards having enough of their chatter for the moment.

Jace obediently clamped her mouth shut, her gaze locking in on the wall directly across from her as she waited.

* * *

He couldn't stop pacing.

They'd pushed him in this cell after six hours in Psy-Ops and they had yet to pull him out.

Ben didn't like small spaces, probably for the same reason's most of his squad didn't.

Advanced Interrogation Training.

He shivered slightly and kept moving.

Probably it was the feline DNA.

It urged him to roam, to run free, to _move._

It made him strong, a good soldier, but it also made him a bit crazy.

Especially now.

"Would you cut it out already?" Came the sharp snap from the cell next to him.

"You're making my feet hurt," the female went on to complain.

Ben knew who she was. 557 from Squad 8.

They'd nicknamed her Viper, since she had a poison tongue she didn't hesitate to unleash upon people.

Zane and Trip had been dumb enough to attempt a prank on her once upon a time. The dressing down she'd given both of them would have done the Colonel proud.

Ben actually smiled at the thought.

"I can't help it," he replied with complete honesty.

"For the sake of all our sanities, try." The words may have seemed like a suggestion, but the way her voice dropped gave it all the flavorings of an order.

On familiar ground, Ben dropped to his rack.

"How long have you been in here?" He asked, bored with nothing better to do than talk.

"Three hours," she replied. "You?"

"Twenty," Ben replied shortly. "Is the base still in lockdown?"

"No," came a different voice, male and unfamiliar.

"It doesn't have to be," an almost identical voice continued. "Everybody's here."

"You know this for a fact?" Ben levied himself upright, his head turned toward the cell the speaker occupied.

"We're from Squad 1," the first voice stated.

"We were the last Squad marched in," the second continued.

"Everybody else was already here," the first finished.

"Geez," 577 moaned. "You're the twins."

"801 and - "

"802 at your service, Ma'am. You must be - "

"557. We recognize - "

"The bitchy tone." 801 finished and Ben didn't have to see him to know that kid would be smirking.

"Good to know I have a reputation."

"You and 493 both, Ma'am," 802 stated.

"Did you really - "

"Try to beat up a guard?" The question was directed at Ben.

"Yes," came the honest reply.

"Wicked," the twins breathed as one.

Pleasantries completely ignored, Ben enjoyed the company of his block mates until everything went dark.

Literally.

There were no windows in the block, no light, so their night vision didn't work.

It was discerning, having one of their biggest senses suddenly shut off and Ben felt his heart beat skyrocket.

It was so loud he almost didn't hear the tell tale click of the locking mechanism on his cell disengaging.

"What the hell?" 557 spoke, Ben's ears telling him that she, like him, had climbed to her feet and was heading towards the noise.

The lights came on before any of them could find the doors to their cells.

"What the hell was that?" 112 was a bulky male from Unit 5. The first thought that had come to his mind after drudging up a memory of the X5 in question had been 'All brawn and no brains', a fact that 112 didn't exactly try to dispute.

The guy was big, but he was so damned quiet that up until this moment Ben had seriously wondered if he was capable of actual speech.

"Blown fuse, maybe?" 717, a female from Squad 13 offered, rattling her door slightly to check to see if it had relocked. Her disappointed sigh at discovering it was, indeed, firmly closed once more, had Ben's lips quirking again.

"For both the doors and the lights?" 514 from Squad 17 stated with a doubtful tone.

"Whatever," 328 finished with a grunt of disinterest. "The power's back on now."

Ben wondered if the bitch was extra strong in 328's DNA, or if the attitude was all her own.

Either way, the pessimistic attitude of the female from Squad 12 was wearing thin on all of them.

* * *

"Have the reports come in from our Atlanta Facility?" The Colonel was scrambling. First a bunch of his kids escape, then this.

He remembered his mother warning him once that bad things come in threes and right now he was thinking a third disaster would almost be a fucking blessing.

Nothing could beat the first two.

"Same story as the rest of them. The Pulse wiped everything."

"The Clean Room?"

"Haven't had a chance to check yet, Sir. They're busy trying to find a power source large enough to accommodate it."

And with the power being out across the nation it was unlikely they'd be able to find anything that big. Unless they stole it.

"I don't give a fuck how they do it, but they will have the Clean Room powered up in the next hour or so help me God heads will roll."

Trainer Jacen Vector really wanted to believe the Colonel was kidding, but he knew better.

He'd been one of the men who'd removed the dead tech from the Colonel's office not even three days prior.

He could understand his impatience, though.

The Pulse had wiped all of their hard drives. Everything they had, all the data they had accumulated concerning the X-series, the Special Units, and the freaks in the basement had been on those computers.

Both the Atlanta Facility and the Seattle one had been equipped with Clean Rooms, or massive supercomputers in sterile environments, with walls that protected the hard drives from remote wipes.

At least, that was the theory. Until they knew for sure…

"What about the X5's in Psy-Ops?" It was a risky thing, changing the conversation topic like that, but Jace needed to know.

The lab techs had been pestering him to pester the Colonel. They wanted to know what they could and couldn't do to the X5's as well as what they were supposed to be doing to them.

So far all they had was several hundred bored souls in lock-up.

"Ten weeks of eval," the Colonel pronounced. "Followed by a six week retraining period. The Committee wants the X5's simplified."

"Sir?"

"They're too damn independent," the Colonel sneered the last word, his dislike of the Committee well known to everyone working for him with a pulse. The dead one's were usually the one's who didn't figure out that little tidbit quick enough.

"Here's a list of X5's who are to undergo an Advanced Evaluation." The Colonel passed the list across the desk. "Make it clear to the monkey's in the labs that they are only authorized to perform these procedures," another sheaf of papers was passed over. "And that anything else will result in a full review. Dismissed."

"Sir!" Jace snapped a salute before hurriedly marching out the door.

With Review Board lurking around all of them, and four Trainers already 'reassigned' to the graveyard shift, so to speak, it was unlikely the lab techs would risk drawing the extra attention to themselves by disobeying this particular order.

* * *

**July, 2009**

Everything hurt so fucking bad, even breathing.

A low moan worked its way past his lips and Ben struggled to suppress it, struggled to get rid of it.

_Pain is a phantom of the mind_, he told himself, rolling onto his sit and biting his already bloody lip to keep from screaming.

"Come on, Ben, breath," Vix, 557, was snarling from the cell next to him. "Breath you fuckwit."

Hearing the epithet escape from her lips had him smiling. It didn't lessen the pain, but it gave him something else to focus in on.

"How's the arm?" He asked, voice scratchy, raw from screaming and lack of water.

They fed them twice a day, but it was slop and most of it always ended up on the floor.

"Better." They'd broken Vix's arm in the labs two days ago. They'd been trying some new version of coercion, using pain coupled with a Psy-Ops drone.

That night, when they'd shoved Vix back into her cell, it'd been Ben doing the comforting.

The two of them had all but assumed care of their group.

When 801, Remy, cried out after a night in the labs, still heavily influenced by the Psycho-actives and seeing visions of his brother dying, it had been a combination of Vix's rough orders and Ben's gentle cajoling coupled with his stories that had calmed the transgenic down enough to drift into an uneasy slumber as his body burned off the rest of the drugs.

When Rom, 802, had been tossed into his own cell the next day in a similar condition, they'd repeated the process.

112, Brian, was still unconscious from whatever they had done to him. 328, Brit, snapped and snarled every time they tried to get a damage report from her. She had yet to warm up to any of them outside of Ben, whose stories she seemed to like enough to stow her attitude for a while.

717, Rox, was sleeping. She'd been one of the ones lucky enough to still be able to walk at the end of the day.

514, Lisa, was still gone; they'd taken her away nearly three days ago.

Both Ben and Vix were starting to wonder if she was ever going to come back.

The pain wasn't the worst part of this whole thing; it wasn't even in the top five.

Ben was more worried about the gaps in his memory.

If it weren't for the physical pain and faint flashes, he would have no idea where he'd been the last couple of hours.

"Can you remember anything?" Vix asked. Following her voice, Ben figured she was crouched at the rear of her bunk, directly underneath the camera in its blind spot, sitting facing the wall.

"It hurt," Ben offered, eliciting a dry round of laughter from Brit.

He'd named them about two weeks after their transfer in when it became apparent that they weren't going back to their Squads any time soon.

He'd gotten tired of referring to them as numbers, so he'd named them.

557 had been first.

"I want to call you Viper," he'd stated.

"My designation is 557," had been her dry reply. "And besides, I don't want to be named after an animal."

Her displeasure known, Ben had gone about mending his accidental faux pas.

"How about Vixen?" Naming people wasn't really his thing. Sure, he was creative and could tell good stories, but that was make-believe. This was real.

"Vix," 557 had replied. "You can call me Vix."

"We're not supposed to have names," 328 had pointed out. Her tone, always disapproving and cold, had been just a little bit wistful, enough that Ben had picked up on it.

He was far from sympathetic with her; she was a bitch, pure and simple. Just because things sucked didn't mean you had to take it out on the people around you.

Still, he wasn't gonna keep calling her 328 and undoubtedly she'd want a name.

"Brit," he'd decided, because it was the closest he could come to Bitch without being too obvious.

328 had whuffed faintly, but it was reply enough and Ben had started addressing her by her new name.

112 had already had a name, much to Ben's surprise and delight.

"Some of the Squads do," Brian had stated and Ben could mentally see him shrugging one shoulder. "I wanted one so I found one."

"Does everybody in your Squad have a name?" Ben had asked, eager to see if there were other transgenics like him and his family.

"Yes," had been Brian's reply, a faint note of wistfulness entering his voice. He obviously missed his squad, probably just as much as Ben missed his own.

They'd badgered him into giving them up.

"Liz," 514 had repeated the name of Brian's youngest female. "I like it."

"It's taken," Brian had stated, voice stiff with disapproval.

"I know that," 514 had shot back. "But I like it. Is there anything similar?"

"How about Lisa?" Vix had offered.

"Lisa," 514's voice rang with approval.

"It's pretty," Brian offered by way of apology.

"Isn't it?" Lisa's voice had been joyful, a first since their incarceration.

"I want to be Rox," 717 had stated without preamble. "It's strong yet feminine."

"Whatever you say, _Rockhead_," Ben had teased, smiling with tired eyes as Rox called him a very unflattering word.

Rom and Remy had been easy; they were named after the twins who helped build Rome.

"Just don't kill each other," had been his warning, ignoring Vix's murmurs to the contrary next to him.

It'd been nearly four weeks since then.

Talking to each other, addressing each other by their names and sharing in their mutual pain was all that was keeping them sane at the moment.

"Do you think we'll ever get out of here?" Vix asked, voice quiet as she curled up on her rack, facing the wall.

"I don't know," Ben had replied, facing the same wall. He wished he could move the wall so had and Vix could talk face to face. It'd been over a month since he'd had any physical contact with any X5, let alone his pack.

He was almost the point where he'd willingly submit to whatever the hell they wanted to do to him if they'd just let him hold another X5's hand for five freaking minutes.

* * *

**August, 2009**

"Report."

Every conversation he'd ever had with the Colonel had started with that single word.

In a way, it was relieving. Cutler really had no idea what he'd do if he had to have an actual conversation with the man.

"The majority of the X5's have been cleared for duty, Sir."

The majority being the X5's who'd spent the last ten weeks being mind-fucked into oblivion and beyond.

And those were the lucky ones.

"And the others?"

"The one's pulled for Advanced Evaluation have another six weeks," Cutler reported, fully aware that the Colonel already knew this information. Hell, he'd been the one who'd given it to him ten weeks ago.

"And the others? The one's who were pulled for Research purposes?"

"Four weeks, Sir, with at least two of them spent in the Recovery Ward."

The Colonel grunted at that, his view drifting to the yard below.

It was curiously empty; until the Colonel signed the release orders Cutler had in his hands, the X5's were still stuck in Psy-Ops. The X6's who had been pulled for eval had been released three weeks ago.

Only a few X7's had been pulled and most of them had been released almost immediately. The hive DNA implanted in the majority made dissention a virtual impossibility.

The last generation, the X8's, were still in the process of being born.

The Clean Room in Seattle had been damaged, but the database in Atlanta had been fully intact. It'd taken some maneuvering, but the Manticore program was still whipping up embyo's and popping them into surrogates.

The X8's were the last generation they had funding for at the moment.

The Pulse was a blessing in disguise for the X-series. Since their ability to mass produce soldiers had been pretty much cut off, Manticore had to be more careful with the ones that they had.

That meant that all of the Trainer's and guards had undergone advanced briefings on appropriate behaviors when dealing with the transgenics.

"Cutler?" Cutler snapped back to reality, the only indication of his upped level of attention to the matter at hand a faint upwards tilting of his chin.

"The papers?" The Colonel held out his hand and Cutler eagerly placed the bundle in his hands.

Five minutes later he left the office with the key to the Psy-Ops doors in hand.

* * *

Max was tired and shaky – she'd had a seizure a couple of days ago right in the middle of her cell and they'd pulled her for testing.

They'd injected her with something that had made the worst of the seizure ease past, but her hands were still trembling ever so slightly.

They'd rousted her from her sleep, marching her out of the cell that had been her home for the past several months to stand in line with the other X5's from her block.

There were three females, 341, Melanie, 222, Elaine, and 066, Georgia, as well as six males, 313, Mik, 299, Drake, 908, Marco, 500, Chaz, 883, Ash, and 167, Vince.

Melanie and Drake were from the same Squad, 11, and they'd already had names.

Max had been pleasantly surprised and even excited to know that her squad wasn't the only ones with names. Marco had been easy; he'd reminded her so much of her fallen brother, and he'd smelled so similar, that she'd decided they were related. Even though Mark had never gotten to use his name, Max felt like he'd approve of her using it as inspiration to name his brother.

He was from Squad 2 and he'd seen at least two of the X5's make it past the first perimeter.

Max hoped fiercely that whoever they were, they'd made it to the outside.

Elaine was from Squad 5.

"We already named ourselves," Elaine had stated, her voice full of intense satisfaction that had Max grinning in shared fierce joy.

They had something that Command didn't know about, something that was all theirs while at the same time, defying the rules imposed upon them by command.

"I don't see what the big deal is," 066 had stated, confusion obvious.

"It's who we chose to be," 313, Mik, had explained. Like Squad's 5 and 11, Squad 6 had already named themselves.

Max had named her Georgia, since it was the first thing that had popped into her head.

066, from Squad 4 was damned lucky given her track record with name suggestions in the past.

500, Chaz, was from Squad 18 and had named himself.

"I've always liked the name," he'd confessed when badgered by Elaine and Max as to the why.

883 was Squad 10's demolition expert, hence the name Ash, since that was all he ever left behind when he did his job.

"Did you know they were going to escape?" 167, Vince, had asked. Elaine had named him after someone in a book she'd once read and he'd accepted it with a shrugged shoulder and a pleased tone.

"We didn't know anything until the guards came piling into our barracks," Ash had replied with complete honesty.

Looking into their faces now, Max saw the sheer exhaustion she herself was battling in their expressions as well as varying degrees of pure stubborn determination.

The guards didn't offer them any explanation as to where they were going, but they all pretty much assumed it was another Psy-Ops experiment until they realized they were at the exit back into the main facility.

Her fists clenched, Max fought the urge to glance at her companions, knowing from scent alone that they were just as surprised by this turn of events as she was.

They were marched back to their barracks, one by one, and Max let out a sigh she hadn't even realized she was holding.

They were all going back to their pre-assigned blocks. It was likely, then, that their squad assignments hadn't been switched up.

The guards delivered her to Block 12, opening the door and waiting impatiently for her to enter before leaving, their booted footsteps marching back the way they came.

Max barely paid them any attention, most of her attention focused on the people in front of her.

Catching sight of Jondy, Max opened her mouth and stepped forward to greet her, her excitement palatable, but was cut off by Seth's abrupt interception.

"452," he greeted her, voice firm, expression cool, distant.

Max stared up at him, her gut sinking, her heart racing as she found herself staring at someone she hadn't seen in years.

353 stared down at her from her brothers face and for a moment she experienced such a moment of near pure grief she almost screamed.

Behind Seth, Jondy was making a subtle signal that had Max hiding a frown as she snapped a salute to the Squads 3IC.

"Sir! X5-452 reporting for duty!"

"Welcome back, soldier. Take your rack."

"Yes, Sir." Max saluted again, executing a smart turn before marching over to said rack, located next to Jondy, who had stopped making the signal as she watched her sister make her way over.

"Camera," she whispered, so softly that only transgenic hearing could have picked up on it.

It took her a second, but once Max realized what was going on, she almost cried with relief.

Focusing, she could make out the familiar whine of a surveillance system.

Turning her head towards the source of the noise, she growled low in her throat, enraged at the violation of their space.

Tired and desperate for the familiar contact of family, Max reached out blindly, connecting with Jondy's hand and holding on like her life depended on it as she took in the empty racks.

Zack was still missing, so was Eva.

Ben's rack was empty and Jack's wasn't even made, the sheets still rumpled from when they'd been rousted from their racks in the middle of the night.

Mercy was gone, but Switch was in her rack, rolled on her side facing Hawk, who was staring at her with dark eyes, the two of them locked in some sort of silent communication.

Seth was sitting on his rack, Vada next to him, the two of them alternating between glancing at each other, the rest of the room, and glaring at the camera in the corner.

Kavi and Becca were still missing, but before the hour was out, they'd been delivered, pale faced and wide eyed, by another group of guards.

Max watched with clenched fists as Seth went through the same routine with them, taking in their shell-shocked, almost heart broken expressions and cursing Manticore yet again.


	9. Chapter 9

**October, 2009**

"You okay, Maxie?" Max winced as she ran the wash clothe over yet another bruise but offered Ben a tired smile anyways.

"I'll live," was her dry reply, eliciting a round of dry laughter from the occupants of the showers.

"At least nobody broke anything this time," Cheyenne pointed out with false cheerfulness.

"Thank Manticore," was Austin's acerbic rejoinder.

The showers seemed to be the only place any of them had privacy anymore.

After some casual inquiry with other X5's they'd become acquainted with during their stays in Psy-Ops, they'd realized that everyone was being watched.

At least ten X5's had already been sent back to Psy-Ops for various violations occurring while in their own barracks under surveillance.

Zack, when he'd gotten back, had taken advantage of the privacy of the shower to share with them what he knew.

"They're watching to see if we need to be split up," he told them in hushed tones as they huddled under the shower heads.

"Any violations by any of us is reason enough for separation, so we need to play by their rules in the barracks."

Their rules meant sleeping in their own racks, night after night. It meant no more sneaking out to meet on the roof, to revel in the open air and play the games they'd invented on the nights none of them could sleep.

It meant addressing each other by designations instead of names, meant sacrificing an integral part of themselves to keep from having to give up their pack.

In some ways, it was a small sacrifice. Giving up simple things for the larger reason of remaining a pack was motivation enough most days.

But after another brutal day of training, all Max wanted to do was curl up in her rack surrounded by the familiar warmth of Ben and Jondy.

Instead, exiting the showers in a neat, orderly line, she marched straight to her own rack and slid in between the sheets. Catching Jondy's eye, she offered her sister a faint smile before closing her eyes for another night of feigning sleep.

* * *

**March, 2010**

"Any problems?" The Colonel's inquiry was shot out in an off-the-cuff manner, but Jace knew the man wanted a full report.

It was a good thing he'd made an extra effort to get all the information he could possibly be quizzed upon earlier.

"A few with Squad's 11 and 13, but the rest seem to be getting along fine."

"And the names? Have they figured out how far that's gone?"

It had come as a bit of a shock to command that the X5's had taken it upon themselves to name each other, but Jace wasn't surprised.

They lived, breathed, ate, and slept together. That kind of constant contact created bonds and it was almost natural for the X5's to move from bonding to naming.

As a matter of fact, Jace got the distinct impression that the rest of the squads weren't as dumb as they were playing.

"Surveillance hasn't managed to pick out anything outside of the initial recon. It appears to have been limited to 11 and 13."

"And 9. You forgot Squad 9."

"Sir?" Jace couldn't keep the confusion from his voice; as far as he had been debriefed, Squad 9 was now defunct.

"Never mind," the Colonel breathed out on a sigh and Jace found himself existing in a temporary state of shock.

Was that…_fatigue_?

It was so unlike the Colonel to show any emotion, Jace was forced to maintain his silence lest he point that simple fact out.

"Squad 9 has been decommissioned. Its soldiers have been reassigned to various squads. Here's a list of other soldiers who have also been reassigned. I want the ones for Squad 3 in place, ASAP. We're starting an advanced training regime next month and I want them working together before we get to that. Dismissed."

"Sir!" Jace exited the office with a crisp salute and the distinct feeling that they'd just hit another plateau in the ever changing landscape that was Manticore internal affairs.

God help them all.

* * *

**May, 2010**

It taken longer that the Colonel had wanted to get the transfers sorted out, which had resulted in a couple of busted ribs on Trainer Vector's part, but in the end, the Squads had been reformed according to his instructions.

Zack stared at the six new bodies with Seth at his side, both of them silently regarded the latest additions to their odd little family.

547 and 875 had both been part of Squad 9 and had been caught in their attempts to break through the perimeter.

Both of them had that pale-faced, wide-eyed shocky look of an X5 recently released from Psy-Ops.

010 was hovering protectively in front of 113, who seemed more curious than anything about her surroundings, a refreshing sense of innocence about her that even now Zack could only marvel at.

623 was a big, African American X5 who's eyes all but screamed his contempt and Zack was almost positive he was going to be a problem. A sidelong look shared with Seth let him know the feeling was mutual.

The last X5, 948, seemed to be the least flappable of the group. He stood in line, muscles relaxed, as he waited for Zack's upcoming orders.

Standing here, he watched them carefully while he decided what to do with them.

Six members added to his squad brought them up to a full compliment of thirty-two once more, which meant a rearrangement of the bunking assignments.

It wasn't going to be easy; they'd gotten used to the way things were, but things had to change.

The Colonel had called all three of them into his office, Zack, Seth, and Eva, to inform them not only of the new additions to their Squad, but a change of command as well.

Zack was still the CO, but Eva had been replaced by Seth as the SIC.

It hadn't come as much of a surprise to any of them; as loath as she was to admit it, Eva knew that Seth was a better soldier than she was. He outperformed her on a near daily basis since their release from Psy-Ops even though she did her damned best to beat him.

The nine of them had made their way back to the barracks, standing in front of the door as they waited for the rest of the Squad to return from morning mess.

"We have inspection today," Zack informed them, more for the benefit of the camera's than actual information.

All of the X5's on site knew the inspection schedule by heart. Each Block was inspected every other week, and each Block had a specific day it was inspected on.

Today both Squad's 3 and 4 would be scrambling to take care of the many small details that often got overlooked during the daily rigmarole. Like with everything else, Command was cracking down on them, using the smallest excuse to execute the greatest punishments possible.

"We'll assign you racks upon entrance," Seth announced, taking his cue from Zack's silence. "You will stow your gear and make up your bunk according to specifications. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir!" The emphasis on the words ranged from enthusiastic (113) to a barely disguised 'fuck you' (623).

The tread fall of their siblings, about as familiar to them as breathing, reached their sensitive ears and the three X5's that made up the command structure turned their heads subtly to great the rest of their pack.

Blue led, with Austin next to him, both of them wearing blank expressions as they took in the newcomers.

"Fall in," Zack ordered with a light wave of his hand. The new additions scrambled to obey, taking up positions at the end of the lines, which seemed absolutely ridiculous.

623 was too big to be standing behind Kavi and Becca, and 948 wasn't exactly a slouch in the height department either.

_I'll have to fix that_, Zack thought with a faint frown as he opened the hatch and proceeded his squad inside.

"Inspection in twenty," he stated, somewhat needlessly since, again, they _knew _this already, but most things he said now days were more for the benefit of the cameras than his actual squad.

"948," Zack called, taking up position at the rack farthest from the main hatch. "This is your rack."

He put 113 in Vada's rack, with 010 taking Seth's, the two of them moving across the way to occupy what used to be Blue and Jace's racks.

Blue moved next to Vada, Ben next to Seth.

Zack continued to reorder the Squad until the only person still left in their original rack was Jack.

Zack had used the new additions as an excuse to move packmates next to other packmates they often sought for comfort. Max and Jondy were next to each other, with Ben directly across from Max. Krit and Syl were next to each other, Tinga, Brin, and Kavi slept in a line. Jack now had Eva on one side and Jondy on the other.

Vada and Seth now slept head to head.

He'd placed the every mercurial Switch next to 623, a sort of precautionary measure. He would have preferred putting 623 in another room all together, but that seemed unlikely.

Assigning him new members on the day of an inspection was just like the Colonel.

* * *

They barely passed. Both Austin and Syl had been hauled away to Solitary for messy boots, but other than that, they made it through.

Krit would be in a sore mood for the rest of the day, so Zack made an effort to keep interactions with him and the rest of the squad, save for Max, at a minimum. While he could snipe at the rest of them all day long should he feel like it, he could never stay angry at Maxie for long.

None of them could, really.

It was those damn doe eyes. Whoever she flashed them at usually found themselves melting under that pretty-eyed stare.

_If only we could unleash that on the enemy_, Zack thought with no small amount of bemusement.

Their morning passed in a whirlwind of activity, preventing any prolonged contact with their new members.

Zack watched them, though, assessing them the way any good commanding officer would.

623 did well enough in hand-to-hand, but he had a tendency to act overconfident, relying too much on his bulk when really he needed to work on his speed.

113 had a weak left side, which Max pummeled umercifully.

010 was distracted by Max's attack on her 'little sister' and Ben was essentially kicking the crap out of her.

547 and 875 he'd paired with Blue and Jace respectively. He'd gone by their look, knowing that any soldier that had spent as much time in Psy-Ops as they obviously had would require a lot of catching up. Blue and Jace were his best straight-laced soldiers; they were very by the book and by the book training was what 547 and 875 needed.

Later, when they were caught up, he'd work on their individual styles. They needed to develop that else they become terribly predictable and easily taken down.

948, Zack was pleased to note, was sparring against Sky and holding his own.

_More than holding his own_, Zack noted as 948 sent Sky sailing over his shoulder.

Sky hit the mat and rolled, exactly like they had been taught, getting to his feet and whirling to meet 948's next strike with a fierce smile.

948 whirled as Sky struck, giving Zack a glimpse of his face. His eyes sparkled with the same fierce joy as Sky's.

Of all the new additions, Zack was fairly certain 948 would be the easiest to adjust and adjust to.

Lunch came and they settled down for their first meal as a full squad.

Unsurprisingly, 623 settled away from them, glaring at their surroundings and, in particular, at 547 and 875, his scowl deepening whenever his gaze inadvertently landed on them.

547 and 875 sat next to each other, at least a foot of space between them and their newest squadmate, Cheyenne.

Zack was grateful, at least, that it was Cheyenne and not Max.

Max would have been upset with the distance and attempted to do away with it.

Undoubtedly, they'd have to learn to trust them and get rid of that distance, but Max's direct way wasn't going to work. They'd have to be more subtle.

113 sat next to Austin, a scowling 010 glaring as she shoveled food into her mouth at an alarmingly fast pace.

113 was talking animatedly with Austin, who was watching her gesturing hands carefully as she had neglected to put down her fork while doing so. On the other side of him, Becca was watching 113 with narrowed eyes and a hint of jealousy.

948, it turned out, was trained in advanced combat medicine, like Jondy and Sky. The three of them were involved in a discussion about the latest arterial repair techniques from the field, with Tinga inserting herself into the discussion asking questions and helping Brin and Kavi, who were sitting on either side of her, understand the more complex terms they hadn't been taught in basic field med.

"So what do you think?" Seth asked, sitting down next to his CO at the head of the table.

Zack gave him a look as he spooned up the last of his applesauce.

"Yeah," Seth sighed, glumly poking at his beef stew. "That's what I thought."

They were going to need quite a bit of work if they wanted to be back to functioning like a squad again.

* * *

"ON YOUR FEET SOLDIERS!"

"MOVE! MOVE! _MOVE_!"

Zack scrambled to his feet, ignoring the loud sirens and brief, but distracting, flashes of searchlights on the outside in favor of focusing on the invaders.

At first, disoriented and confused, he assumed they were guards and that there had been another escape.

Fearing another return to Psy-Ops, members of his squad were already mobilizing an attack when a familiar figure made himself known.

"Attention on Deck!" Staff Sergeant PJ Cutler strolled into the room like he owned it, stocking cap on his head, fatigues tucked neatly into his boots, and flashlight shining off the eyes of the rooms occupants, easily distinguishing the full humans from those with predator DNA.

Zack winced as the light raked across his eyes, but snapped to a position of attention.

"Alright, maggots, you have just entered the next stage of your current training cycle. This stage will last until I have deemed you competent enough to move onto the next one. I will not deem you competent until you have proven to me that you can act in a manner becoming of a soldier in the United States Army. Do you understand me?"

"Sir, Yes, Sir!" Thirty-two voices shouted in response.

"I can't hear you!"

"SIR, Yes, SIR!"

"I _CANNOT_ HEAR YOU, SOLDIERS!"

"SIR, YES, SIR!"

Cutler nodded, apparently satisfied with that response before centering his flashlight on Zack.

"X5-599, you are in command of this Unit, are you not?"

"SIR, YES, SIR!" Zack snapped back, careful to keep his eyes open and staring at a point just beyond Cutler, even though having the light shined into his eyes was excruciatingly painful.

"Would you say your Unit was ready to be deployed in an out-and-out combat situation?"

Zack had seconds to come up with a satisfactory response and, for the first time ever, felt himself physically rebelling.

He wanted to say yes. He knew that was the answer that Cutler was expecting, the answer that all of their Trainers that currently occupied the room were expecting.

But at the same time, the last mission they'd been on, their 'first' mission, had been such a monumental fuck-up, he never wanted to place his squad in that position again.

"Sir, Yes, Sir!" Zack shouted after what seemed like an eternity, but was, in actuality, only about a three second lapse.

It wasn't an extremely noticeable time lag, but Cutler took notice, Zack could see it in his eyes.

He braced himself for an ass chewing of monumental proportions and was surprised when Cutler responded by lowering the light out of his eyes.

"Think again," was all he said before the near deafening noise of air sirens, gunfire, grenades, and IED's filled the air.

"You have five minutes to assemble on Tarmac A in full combat gear! Anybody who is not standing toes to the line at that time will have my boot shoved so far up their ass they will never need dental floss again! Do you maggots understand me?"

"SIR, YES, SIR!"

"Can I get a hoo-rah?"

"HOO-RAH, STAFF SERGEANT!"

Cutler nodded, apparently satisfied, before turning and heading out the door, pausing and turning to look behind him when none of the soldiers in the room so much as twitched.

"MOVE, you fuckwits!"

Taking that as the dismissal it was, Zack galvanized his squad into action.

Five minutes later they lay on the tarmac, arms bent at the elbows, bodies locked in a standard incline for a proper push-up, as Cutler relayed their days activities to them.

This, it turned out, would be the highlight of their day.

* * *

It had started raining again, a driving, pounding rain that brought back bad memories for most of them.

"Why is it," Vada murmured with an angry huff as they made their way up a cliff face. "That every time we're tasked for something, it starts raining?"

"We're just lucky like that," Zane grunted, earning him a brief snort of laughter from the rest of the squad. Vada looked down on him with twinkling eyes as she found a purchase and reached down to haul Zane up next to her.

"Luck, huh?" Cutler poked his head over the cliff with a severe expression that let them know he'd heard every word.

"How about we add a couple of clicks to this march? What do you say to seven? It's a nice, prime number."

He disappeared back over the top of the cliff to silence.

Vada and Zane shared a look, ducking their heads as Zack pulled himself past them.

His face gave nothing away, but Seth, who was moving just behind him, gave them a brief smile as he passed.

Several feet below them, Jondy was watching Max scale up a few feet above her when she heard the tell tale sound of rocks tumbling, followed by a muffle curse and a sliding body.

Reaching out blindly, with one hand dug into the wall, she grabbed the sliding body with the other, grunting as the action nearly yanked her shoulder out of socket.

623 gripped 210's hand, staring up at her straining face as he did his best to find purchase with his feet.

He expected her to complain, to snarl at him for being clumsy and losing his footing, but she kept her mouth shut in a grim a line as she turned her head to look down at him.

"Move you left foot about two inches to the right," she hissed, eyes tracking his frantic search for proper footing.

He listened to her, his foot finding the proper grip seconds later. With one foot secured, he quickly found leverage for the other and, with slightly bent knees, let go of her hand and balanced while he searched for grips.

"You okay?" 623 stared up at her with a such a blatant look of shocked surprise Jondy felt her eyebrows rising to hit her hairline.

"Fine," 623 stated after a long moments silence, his gaze sliding past her to where the rest of the squad was already halfway up the cliff.

"We're falling behind," 623 pushed himself up, scrambling carefully until he was next to her on the mountain. "How's your arm?"

"Not broken," Jondy replied with a rueful smile, twisting her shoulder in its full range of motion for emphasis.

"Is it going to inhibit your performance?"

"Don't know yet," Jondy replied, somewhat amused by 623's formal inquiries. It was like he'd never heard of slang before.

It wasn't that hard to pick up on, either. All you had to do was either listen to the guards or spend a night in the infirmary. In between bouts of medical jargon and scientific lingo, almost everybody there slipped into Common Verbal Usage.

Admittedly, it took some time for them to adjust and comprehend a lot of what was being said, but once they'd figured it out, they'd thrived on using their new words. It'd made them feel more…human.

"I can take your pack for you," 623 offered after a moments consideration, mentally cursing himself the second the words left his mouth.

210 blinked over at him, such a profound look of surprise on her face that it made him feel marginally better.

"I can carry my own," she finally stated after a moment of staring at him with narrow eyed suspicion. "I don't need any help."

Pushing herself upward, she missed the small smile that graced 623's face as he slowly followed after her, carefully watching not only his own grips, but hers as well.

Zack peered down the mountain as he pulled Becca up and over. That made thirty of his men, leaving just two more, Jondy and the unknown factor that was 623.

Peering down over the mountain, he narrowed his eyes as he caught sight of Jondy carefully climbing her way up, with the larger, and undoubtedly stronger, 623 making his way just below her.

Even as he watched, Jondy missed a grip and started to slide.

His body jerked forward before he could help himself, and he was seconds away from throwing himself over the edge to scramble down and retrieve her himself when 623 reached out, lightning quick, and grabbed her by the straps of her pack.

Cursing her stupidity at not properly checking her grip before putting her full weight on it, Jondy let out a harsh breath as she jerked to an abrupt stop only seconds after entering her slide.

623 had such a look of supreme satisfaction at having caught her that Jondy figured the last thing he needed was her thanks.

Gripping the cliff, she hurled herself up the last couple of feet, accepting Seth's proffered hand and ignoring his faintly amused look when she refused to look behind her as Zack hauled 623 up next to the rest of them.

"Twenty-three Fifty," Cutler consulted his time piece with a faintly twisted frown before reaching over and grabbing the nearest pack, which happened to be Kavi's, and tossing it down the Cliffside.

"Ooops," Cutler sauntered past them, heading for the trail he'd used to get up.

He paused, turning to face them, smiling slightly at the disbelieving looks on their faces.

"You need that pack to complete the course, 278. Go get it. As a matter of fact," Cutler's gaze touched over the rest of them, his lip curling upward in a facsimile of a smile, "why don't all of you go on down and help him? And this time, try to make in under twenty."

Tired, achy, and hungry, Zack was the first to start his climb down, the rest of his squad following him in silence as Cutler watched them carefully.

Crouching at the edge of the cliff, he tracked their progress as his radio gave a faint beep.

"Cutler here," he answered, eyes watching 819 as she dangled precariously, 525 braced just below her to catch her as she made a small drop, bypassing five minutes of careful climbing.

He winced as she banged against the mountain, rougher than would be comfortable, 525 quickly slamming his body forward, effectively stopping her momentum but undoubtedly adding to her bruises.

"How long are you gonna keep them at the mountain, you dumb fuck?" Came Appleby's grumbling voice.

Cutler's lip curled in a genuine snarl.

Goddamn pussy. Appleby was a graduate from the Virginia Military College, which meant he'd entered the army as an officer without any experience as a grunt.

All that fancy, schmancy education seemed to have given him nothing but an overinflated sense of entitlement.

Goddamn prick wouldn't have lasted a single day in the Ranger's.

"What's the matter, Appleby? You're hair frizzing in all this rain?" It was doubly funny since Appleby was as bald as a baby's bottom.

"Fuck you," came the immediate and heartfelt response.

Cutler straightened from his crouch as the last of the squad touched the ground and began the search for 278's missing pack.

"When they can climb the mountain in twenty or less we'll be done here, not a second before. We clear, Appleby?"

There was a brief moment of static before the sullen response.

"We're clear."

As much as Appleby loved being in charge, it galled him to no end that Cutler had been placed in command of the Alpha Squad.

The Alpha Squad was Manticore's version of Special Operations Forces.

There were five of them, one for each facility. Gillette had Squad 3, Seattle had Squad 6, Las Vegas had Squad 17, Syracuse was Squad 11, and Atlanta was Squad 5.

To be in charge of the Squad was a prestigious thing indeed. Each and every leader had been carefully selected not only by the Committee, but by the Directors of each facility.

PJ had been one of the forerunners since the second he recognized the Alpha Squad as Squad 3.

These kids, all of them in the facility, were born with greatness literally coursing through their veins.

Squad 3 was the best, and Cutler wasn't gonna waste his time on anything else.

Appleby was sore as hell at losing the opportunity, but Cutler cared only enough to know to watch his back.

Appleby would have gotten their asses killed their first mission out.

Cutler was gonna do everything in his power to make damn sure these kids survived. And later, maybe, when he was sure they could take of themselves and survive no matter what the circumstances, he'd make sure they _lived_.

Right now, though, he had a squad to motivate.

"Make it up here in the next ten, and we'll knock off, say, five clicks in the march."

He watched with satisfaction as Squad 3 double-timed it up the wall.

The last member, 452, was hauled up and over the edge, coming to a panting crouch, all eyes on Cutler, who held up his wrist as he read the time on his watch.

Eighteen thirty-four.

_Not bad_, he thought with a barely hidden smile as he bent over and picked up his own pack. _Not bad at all._

* * *

By his count, they'd gone almost twenty-five clicks and it wasn't even noon yet.

Breakfast had been a ten minute affair, with MRE's and a quick break to visit 'Nature's Head' as Staff Sergeant Cutler had put it.

There'd been the Cliff face which had taken the better part of the morning, a downward trail full of holes and vines that had tripped several of them up bad enough for open wounds they'd had less than two minutes to fix up.

Both of those had made up the first eighteen clicks. The last seven had been an open road march.

Breaking the tree line and spotting the truck, Zack had heard several of his squad give out heartfelt sighs, obviously thinking that the training mission was over.

One look at Cutler and Zack knew better.

Cutler had climbed into the back of the carrier, instructing them to march behind and keep up.

The truck had varied speeds, going from walking, to running, to racing. By the time they'd stopped for lunch, they were soaked through not only by the rain, but with sweat as well.

They didn't complain, though. As bad as things were out here, none of them wanted to risk ending back up in Psy-Ops, or worse.

At the very least, this exercise had caused 623 to lose some of his hostility towards them.

He sat next to Jondy, who was shooting him annoyed looks as he stared while she talked with Ben and Max.

Zack could easily figure out the reason why.

Jondy, Max, and Ben loved their names. They loved using them and were far enough away from both Cutler and the Trainer driving the truck to be able to get away with it.

Unfortunately, with 623 there, they couldn't. 623 was an unknown factor and even though he seemed to have developed a liking for Jondy sometime during this hellish march, that didn't mean they automatically trusted him.

547 and 875 were huddled against a tree, picking through their meal while quietly talking to each other.

010 was attempting to pick out several twigs and leafs from various points on 113's uniform, the perky female smiling happily as she chattered away with Kavi, who was staring at her, eyes wide, expression a little gobsmacked at the rate at which words were emerging from her mouth.

948 was talking in a quiet group with Sky and Hawk, the three of them more than making up for 113's rapid fire word-vomit with their slow, monosyllabic conversations.

Figuring that the best place to start with for integration into his unit was 948, Zack finished his MRE, stowed the trash, and made his way over to where the three of them were sitting.

Seth, almost finished with his own meal, followed his CO's line of sight, shoveling food in his mouth and he got to his feet and moved to follow, always at his CO's back.

"Hey, 599," Sky greeted him with a faint smile.

"Hey," Zack dropped to his haunches and stared at 948.

He could be a traitor, a trick. Someone inserted into their squad for the sole purpose of finding out just how close they were and splitting them up.

948 held his gaze, steady, and Zack found himself baring his teeth in a primal response to the unintended challenge.

948's eyes widened fractionally as he hastily dropped his gaze, tilting his neck to the side and purposely keeping his eyes low.

It was such an obvious sign of submission that the rage that had been building in Zack dissipated as quickly as it had come.

948 hadn't been the only one effected, either. Sky and Hawk had dropped their gazes, and their smiles, their expressions an odd mixture of confusion and fear.

Seth had stiffened up next to him, body tightening and coiling as if he was facing an actual enemy. When 948 dropped his gaze and Zack's snarl disappeared, 948 wasn't the only one to let out a heartfelt sigh of relief.

"What the hell was that?" Seth asked, rubbing the back of his neck in an effort to get the hair to lie flat.

The clearing had gone silent so suddenly, Cutler had jerked his head up, his heart leaping in his chest.

For a second, he'd been back in Iraq, eating an MRE, experiencing that supreme moment of absolute silence right before the bombs fell and people started dying.

His first reaction when he saw all thirty-two of his charges sitting or standing in the clearing was relief.

His second was puzzlement.

They were all quiet, their eyes locked in on their CO.

And they looked spooked. Even the normally unflappable 599 looked about ready to bolt and, as far as Cutler could tell, following the line of sight of almost every X5 in the clearing, whatever had happened, 599 had been the originator.

A quick scan told him they were all pretty much done with their food, and the fifteen minutes he'd allotted as their 'break' time was almost up.

Deciding that this was as good a time as any, he climbed to his feet, placed two fingers in his mouth, and let out a sharp whistle that had all of them wincing.

_Damned advanced hearing_.

He'd forgotten about that.

Angry at the lapse in attention, Cutler made a show of crossing his arms and glaring at them as he carefully stowed his self-directed disgust and focused back on the matter at hand.

"Fall in!" He ordered, voice loud enough to echo in the clearing but not loud enough to move far beyond.

"Weapons at the ready," he ordered as they formed up in two lines. "Scouting positions, 599."

"Yes, Sir!" The X5 saluted crisply before turning to his squad.

In the regular army there were only about ten soldiers to a squad. A full compliment of thirty to forty usually made up a platoon.

These thirty-two soldiers in front of him, for all their youth, were the Manticore equivalent of a regular army Battalion.

He could send this squad out into the field against a thousand enemy troops and, if he did his job right, come back without so much a scratch.

That is, if everything went according to plan.

Of course, battle plans usually don't last past the first five minutes, which meant that all that structured training this kids were getting didn't mean jackshit.

The enemy wasn't going to follow anybodies rules, least of all their own.

The sooner these kids learned the fine art of adaptation, the better off they were.

* * *

Same Day, 2100 hours

They'd been moving through the underbrush for hours.

The rain had let up around 1900 hours, leaving them in an eerily quiet forest.

Cutler had disappeared hours ago, telling them that their only mission was the reach the edge of the forest.

It sounded simple and, so far, it had been.

They hadn't run into any resistance, any trip wires or traps.

They were just…walking.

Zack had split them up in four moving lines of eight, in a wing formation, with two in the lead, and two others spread out on either side in the rear.

Zack had taken command of one of the front wings, with Eva at his side as his temporary SIC. Seth had command of the second, with Hawk as his SIC.

Blue commanded the left rear wing, with Sky as his SIC. Austin had command of the right rear wing with Jace as his SIC.

He'd separated the medics, taking Jondy with him, along with 623, who he wanted where he could see him.

948 had gone with Seth, Blue had Sky, and Tinga had been sent with Austin.

Each group had scouts.

Zack sent Ben and Max forward and to the left as point guards. Seth sent Syl and Krit. Blue had Mercy and Zane hang back, and Austin sent Brin and 547 back.

He held up his fist, motioning for them to stop.

All motion came to a halt as he checked in with his section leaders.

The scouts went out and came back with the same reports they'd come back with the last six times: there was nothing in front of them and nothing behind.

Neither he nor any of the others could figure out what, exactly, was going on.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, he motioned his squad onwards.

* * *

**Next Day, 0100 hours**

Cutler had left his squad in the forest, heading back to base for a shower and a couple hours of shut eye while he left his personally selected group of trainers behind to supervise the squad.

He'd given them the simplest of assignments; get to the edge.

There, they'd find a make-shift camp waiting for them. There'd be food trucked in from the kitchens, some water for a quick wash, and some blankets for an hour or two of shut eye.

They'd be confused at the lack of obstacles, which was exactly how he wanted them to feel.

Now, standing at the end of the course, he watched the sleeping squad and waited.

"Sir," one of the junior Trainer's, Mackey, approached, careful to keep his steps even and regular.

Nothing woke a trained soldier up quicker than someone trying to sneak around near them.

"The Trainer from Seattle is on the line."

Cutler thanked him quietly before slipping away and inside the jeep.

"This is Staff Sergeant Cutler, to whom am I speaking?"

"To whom am I speaking?" Came the exaggerated southern drawl that had Cutler whooping.

"Well I'll be damned! Ezekial Knight. I thought they retired your sorry ass."

"Hell's bells boy, so did I. Them bastards done gone lost their heads when they 'recruited' me."

"I'll say. So you're in charge of Squad 6?"

"Every last damn one of 'em," came the agreement. "Sorry ass suckers."

Cutler frowned. That last statement didn't sound like it came from his old Delta Captain.

"Something wrong up there?"

"It'd be smarter to ask what isn't wrong," Knight snorted.

Back in Seattle, Knight hooked his old, war worn legs over a railing and leaned against the wall, staring out at the empty training fields with cynical eyes.

He'd be a dumb son of a gun in accepting this job, but hell, he hadn't really gotten much of a choice.

Like Cutler, he knew the limitations that came with being one of the best, the main one being once you're in, god help if you want to get out.

No Delta Operator every really retired. Most of 'em just thought they did.

When they'd shown up at his house, a discreet group of three men, it'd been quietly suggested that, for the safety of his wife and two daughters, he accept his re-enlistment with good grace.

His wife, Annie, knew something was wrong, but God damn if he brought her into this sorry mess, especially now.

Post-Pulse, he had to be a hell of a lot more careful with is actions. Now days, making someone disappear was about as easy as shooting fish in a barrel. Most of the Sector Cops patrolling the damn country had investigative skills about as good as their shooting, which was to say pretty damn bad.

'sides, there were no guarantees if they went after Annie or Suzann or Grace that they'd send something as plain as a regular ol' human to do the job.

"So what isn't wrong?" Cutler asked, voice sympathetic.

"Hell, not a whole lot," Knight let out a soft bark of laughter. "These kids…"

"Pretty damn impressive," Cutler finished his thought.

"I'll say. I saw one of them X4's run down a deer, flat footed. Scariest sight of my life."

Cutler would have to agree. The X4's would have been considered the first successful generation instead of the X5's save for the fact that a select portion of them had ended up with more animalistic features than human.

With carefully grooming, they could usually pass for human, but usually hadn't cut it with the Committee.

Since in order to continue to receive funding, the Manticore program had been required to have an active force by 2010 at least, they'd kept most of them alive.

The X4's, however, were expected to be 'retired' rather quickly after the X5's went active.

Poor dumb bastards.

Sharing the same thought, it was Knight who broke the silence.

"So you got yourself put in charge of the Alpha Squad."

"Look who's talking. They'd hired you specifically for this?"

"I was supposed to be training the X4 Alpha Squad, but they transferred me when Squad 6's old Trainer got 'reassigned.'"

"Arlington?" Knight snorted.

"Hell no. Bastard's buried in the local town cemetery."

"No family to claim him?"

"Can't claim someone who was already dead."

That had Cutler freezing.

"They're doing that?"

Up until this moment, he'd thought it an urban myth. Oh, he knew guys who'd been 'transferred' to the other side in a combat situation, but actually having someone declared dead so you can reassign them to a secret project?

"Be damn grateful you said yes the first time around," was Knight's grim reply.

They sat their in shared silence, both contemplating how much suckier things could have been if they'd been ripped away from their families like that.

"Have you talked the Syracuse, Vegas, and Atlanta Trainer's yet?"

"No to Atlanta, yes to Syracuse and Vegas." Cutler found himself chuckling as he recalled his conversation with the Syracuse Alpha Squad Trainer.

His name was Carter and he was Brooklyn through and through.

Cutler had actually been forced to track down one of their Trainer's from New York in order to understand half of what the man said.

The Vegas trainer was a quiet man named Torrance Everton who was universally referred to as 'Spock'.

"That's too damn bad," Knight's cat-ate-the-canary tone had Cutler grinning wider.

"Who's in charge of Atlanta?"

"An old friend. You remember Clayton?'

"Clayton?" Cutler had to bite his tongue to keep from letting lose with a string of curse words that would his poor mama rolling over in her grave.

Sawyer 'Cooter' Clayton was just about the sorriest example of military discipline Cutler had ever encountered. The younger man had a smart mouth, a devil-may-care attitude, and the luck of God himself.

Stupid shit should have been dead about twenty times over, but the man had somebody watching over him.

He'd been in charge of one of the two companies in Delta when Cutler had left. He'd been referred to almost universally by then as 'Crazy Cooter' or 'that Crazy Coot'.

"How the hell did he end up here?" Cutler finally settled on asking.

"No idea. Damn idiot just said 'Some things are just too crazy to believe' and hung up on me."

"You get their training schedules?"

"Yep." And that brought them back to the matter at hand.

Manticore wanted five Special Operations Squads, but they wanted them to be interchangeable. In order to best make this possible, the five Trainer's in charge of the five squads had been politely ordered to synchronize their training itineraries.

Cutler and Knight traded ideas for the next twenty minutes.

"You're starting your squad's training Monday?"

"That's the plan," Knight grunted. "Don't know how well it's going to turn out, though. The current CO's a good soldier, but a lousy leader. Now 494, on the other hand."

"494?" Cutler blinked. "About five two, hazel eyes, blonde hair? Kind of half smiles, sounds like a freakin' dog when he laughs?"

"I can attest to the half smiles and the physical features, but not the laugh. 494 don't have a whole lot to laugh about. How'd you know about him, anyways?"

"I have his clone in my squad," Cutler replied.

"CO?"

"No. Why, 494 bucking for the position?"

"Oh, hell no. The kid seems to hate giving orders. He's damn good at it though. Natural born leader if I ever saw one. Colonel Jacobs has been trying for the last two years to get command transferred. Doesn't really matter, anyways. Nobody follows 764's orders anymore."

"And Brass hasn't picked up on that?"

"Oh, hell no. Everybody's picked up on it. Just the idiot they saddled us with for a liaison seems to think that 764 'has the genes' that make him a leader."

"Dumbass."

"Stupid bitch," Knight corrected, causing Cutler to blink.

"Well, I've got to get some shut-eye. Good luck."

"Same to you," Cutler hung up with a faint smile before turning his attention back to the squad.

They'd gotten a solid hour and a half of shut-eye.

Time to start their morning.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **It's been a while since I've revisited Toy Soldiers but my muse is starting to kick again so hopefully when I put this up I'll actually manage to finish it.

**July, 2010**

They'd started calling them the Alpha Squad about seven weeks in and the name had spread like wildfire.

It wasn't until two weeks ago, when they'd finally returned to the main facility after two months of in-the-woods training, that Zack realized it wasn't just a name.

Like their barcodes, it was a designation. It branded them the best of the best.

It made them stand out more than he'd ever wanted them to.

"Ciphers, cryptography, astrophysics, and chemical warfare," Cheyenne moaned as they shuffled into the showers after another grueling day.

"Hey, look on the bright side," Zane offered, pulling his shirt over his head with a wry smile that had Cheyenne blinking. "If you ever need to decipher a code while whipping up a batch of mustard gas traveling at several hundred miles per hour in the stratosphere, you're set."

It was such an unlikely, impossible scenario that even stoic faced 623 snorted.

Zack eyed him carefully as he shrugged out of his own dirty, torn fatigues, not bothering to put them in the laundry pile.

He'd gotten caught in one of the traps on the obstacle course, their last physical activity of the day. They had their classes, their training, and every night before they went to bed, some grueling physical task that cut their rack time by a good two hours or so.

It wasn't a problem for Max, Jondy, 623, or 010. None of them slept much anyways, but for Jack, Becca, and 113…

Eva and Max were helping Jack get scrubbed down as quickly as possible so he could bunk down faster, the males eyes barely open as he sister murmured something in his ear that he gave a sleepy, barely audible reply to.

Austin was all but holding Becca as he helped her wash, the other X5 pretty much asleep already, barely so much as twitching when Austin ran her face under the spray.

010 was attempting to help 113 wash, but the two females were so close to the same size, she wasn't having much success.

"Here," Trip reached out and caught 113 before she could hit the floor when 010 lost her grip on the girl for the second time. "Let me help."

It was a testament to how grueling the last few weeks had been that 010 didn't immediately snarl at him, as had been her tendency from before.

Ben showered quickly and methodically, all the while keeping his gaze on the new comers.

Initially he had resented the hell out of their presence. Having them around meant going back to their designations even in the privacy of the showers. Now, though he still resented that aspect, he acknowledged that it wasn't particularly their fault.

Still, he was getting tired of it and the best way to fix the problem, as far as he was concerned, was to name them himself.

He'd share his plan with Max and Jondy, but Max would want to have a part in naming them and Ben, while not exactly pleased, wasn't about to inflict the torment of walking around for the rest of your life with a name like Californium because it was the last chemical they'd been discussing and the first thing that popped into Maxie's head.

Jondy might be somewhat helpful, but she was on the other side of the showers and Ben had pretty much run out of patience.

"I think we should name them." It was a quiet pronouncement, but he might as well have shouted it for the sudden silence that overcame all of them.

"493," Zack's voice was low, warning, and Ben gave him a steadfast look of resolve.

"I'm tired of hiding," Ben replied, chin tilted upwards, echoing Maxie's most stubborn face.

"You have names?" 113 spoke sleepily, leaning heavily against 010 as she opened her mouth wide in a jaw cracking yawn. "We have names, too."

Zack froze and stared at them, taking in 113's almost comatose expression and catching 010's eyes. 010 raised her head and narrowed her eyes at his unspoken question.

"We couldn't be sure you weren't going to turn us in to Command," she stated, voice stubborn in defense of their choice.

"What's your name?" Maxie stepped in, ever the peacemaker. "Mine's Max."

"Molly," 010 replied. She nodded to the already asleep 113. "This is Mandy."

"Alyx," 547 spoke, her head held high in regal pride.

"Cole," 875 stated with no small amount of bemusement, offering all of them a half wave that had Becca giggling even in her half conscious state.

"Mecca," 623 spoke, startling all of them. Out of all the X5's, he was the one they'd all pretty much decided would be least likely to have a name.

"Who named you?" Jondy asked, genuinely curious.

"I did, just now."

_Not exactly wrong, then. Not exactly right, either._

All eyes turned to 948, who blinked back at them.

"I don't have a name," he stated. "I never did."

Max grinned and opened her mouth to offer what would no doubt be some godawful suggestion when Sky, of all people, jumped to his rescue.

"How about Bo? It was the name of some guy on one of those television things the nurses like to watch in the early afternoon. I liked it," Sky added the last part softly and somewhat defensively.

"Bo," 948 repeated with a nod and a smile. "I like it. That's my name."

Stumbling tiredly out of the showers, fully clothed and exhausted, Max placed her head on her pillow and sighed, ready for another long night of not sleeping.

Catching Bo's eye, she gave him a faint smile and, careful to wait until the camera was rotated away, mouthed 'Welcome to the Family'.

Bo smiled.

* * *

"What's up with that?" Cutler ignored Sergeant Danes' question in favor of frowning at the row of soldiers now standing on the field.

There were six of them, ranging from six years old to fourteen. They stretched over the colors of the rainbow and all body types, with heavyset being the most popular.

They didn't look a thing like killing machines and Cutler wasn't the only to notice.

"What the hell – the dough factory explode or something?" Trainer Renard wasn't exactly a bad guy, but he _was_ an asshole.

Cutler watched several of the kids flinch, a clear sign that they'd heard the comment this time and it was hardly the first time, either.

"Keep your mouth shut, Renard, unless ordered otherwise," Trainer Hewett ordered harshly as he breezed past.

"Yes, Sir," Renard shot a half-ass salute at Hewett's back before crossing his arms and leaning against the wall next to Cutler.

"So what's going on? Who are they?"

"IT Units," Cutler replied with a heavy frown.

"IT? What the hell does that stand for?"

"Intelligence and Tactical Units," Cutler elaborated. "Battle Processors of the twenty-first century. Walking, talking think tanks."

"Heavy on the Tank." Danes was the one to smack Renard for that one, earning him an amused look from Cutler in response.

"They've got elephant DNA, smartass. Makes them extra smart."

"No shit?" Renard's eyebrows arched as he pursed his lips and turned his thoughtful expression towards the six X-series on the tarmac.

"So what are they doing here?" Danes asked, turning his attention to Cutler.

"Calibration exercises," Cutler replied, pushing away from the wall and moving to the front of the tarmac.

"Hewett," Cutler greeted as he approached the other trainer.

"Cutler," Hewett returned dryly. "What's up?"

"Exactly what I was about to ask you. My orders say your squad is to accompany mine today?" Even now he couldn't keep a note of ludicrous disbelief out of his voice.

His squad was the best, the elite. There was no way in hell these…IT Units were going to be able to keep up.

"Did you get your modified training schedule and medications?"

"Yes." The medications were confusing, but this was Manticore. He'd routinely received inoculations against anything and everything since working here. But the schedule…now that was just borderline ridiculous.

They'd spent the last month pushing this squad to their absolute limits and now Manticore wanted him to step back for two weeks so they could have 'safe' training sessions with the IT's?

With what they wanted the Alpha Squads to be able to accomplish, it was dangerous to put them even an hour behind schedule, let alone an entire day. And Command wanted him to spare these IT's two weeks?

"Orders are orders, Cutler. You can spice up the training if you want to, but if anything happens to these IT units, your ass is on the line."

Cutler let his eyes drop back to the IT units.

They stood in a vaguely uneven line and were dressed in a variety of clothing choices, from woodland camo to urban camo and even in sweats.

His lip gave an involuntary curl. He prided himself on being pretty laid back, but this? This was a collection of such blatant disregard of discipline and order it made his teeth clench and his head ache.

"Deal with it," Hewett stated, practically reading his mind as he signed something on the clipboard in front of him before thrusting it into Cutlers hands.

"They're all yours. The oldest is Brain, the next is Sage, then Wit, Book, Whip, and Gift. Call 'em by their names; I'm not even sure if they know their designations."

"What?" Cutler jerked his head around to stare at Hewett. "They have names? And Command knows?"

"Command named them," Hewett replied. "Or somebody in command let somebody name them. I don't know."

Hewett watched Cutler's face lose its normal stoic shade and didn't bother to try and hide his grin, sympathetic as it may be.

"Look, man," Hewett comforted, giving Cutler a hearty slap to his shoulder. "Just think of this way – the IT's are about as close as Manticore has to regular kids. Only smarter. Good luck, man."

Watching Hewett walk away, Cutler turned his attention back to the kids in front of him, watching how their eyes watched him before sighing.

"Squad 3 will out in about three minutes."

"Three minutes and twenty-seven seconds," the one called Wit stated, her voice so matter of fact Cutler actually blinked.

"Okay. Three minutes and twenty-some seconds," Cutler agreed, off-balanced and a little amused.

"Here's a brief run down of our activities for the day – "

"Obstacle course for approximately twenty-three minutes and eighteen seconds," the one called Brain interrupted.

"Followed by target and range practice for approximately one hour, twenty-six minutes, and fifty eight seconds," Sage picked up where Brain left off.

"Immediately followed by hand-to-hand and close quarters combat techniques which will last approximately one hour, twenty-nine minutes, and eleven seconds," Book stated.

"Followed by Mess, which will take approximately twenty-two minutes for food and five minutes and thirteen seconds to report afterwards." Gift this time.

"Followed by classroom activities for approximately three hours and twenty-seven minutes," Whip picked up right where Gift had left off. What surprised Cutler by this point was mostly the fact that Whip kept talking. "Squad 3 will then report to Research Lab A for physiological measures and evaluation for approximately two hours, thirteen minutes, and seven seconds."

"Then there's evening mess, followed by night maneuvers which will last however long you want them to." The corner of Wit's lips tilted upward faintly at the slightly gobsmacked look on Cutler's face. "Which is usually about seven hours, thirty-three minutes, and fifty-nine seconds…in the summer. You usually shave off about an hour, twenty-one minutes, and eighteen seconds when the temperatures drop below freezing."

Cutler could practically see the smugness roiling off the collective lot of them in waves and he so desperately wanted to call them on it, but the thing was…he wasn't entirely sure they _didn't_ have the right to be smug.

It wasn't like he had a calculator on him to double check their maths. Speaking of which…

"Just how the hell do you know all that shit?" There was a note of grudging respect and open-ended suspicion to his voice as he asked his question.

"Manticore fed us the data on Squad 3 before sending us out on this assignment," Brain offered. "We combined the data with heuristics and statistical algorithms to come up with near certain probabilities of the outcome of this day."

"And I don't suppose you'd be willing to share this data with me?" Cutler was curious; if they could tell him how this day was going to end…

"There's a ninety-nine point two percent certainty that you'll change your plans if we tell you that," Wit replied with that same near grin.

Cutler shook his head and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling as Squad 3 marched out onto the tarmac.

"Three minutes and twenty-seven seconds." Cutler was only half-surprised by this point.

* * *

"What the hell?" Zack didn't have to say anything; Mercy wordlessly reached over and gave Coop a rough pinch to his side that had him hissing and scowling but getting the message.

Still, what the hell pretty much summed up their communal thought in the moment.

The six soldiers in front of him didn't look like soldiers. Zack wasn't sure what they looked like, only that they definitely didn't look like they belonged here.

"Atten-_shun_!" Cutler barked, drawing their semi-startled attention back to the present.

Zack straightened in perfect time with the rest of his squad, his heels clicking as his hands fell to his sides and his gaze fixated straight ahead.

Next to him, Seth flared his nostrils slightly and made a face at the results.

The other soldiers smelled…weird. Like the human guards with a generous dose of something else, at least two other scents he couldn't readily identify.

It made him both wary and kind of…hungry.

"We've been assigned a contingent of IT units to assist us in stream-lining our training endeavors," Cutler informed them from where he stood at the front of the tarmac, the six new soldiers – who didn't even look like soldiers – formed up in a single line behind him.

"They'll be spending the next two weeks training with us and they will have nothing but the best reports to bring back to Command, correct?"

"Yes, Sir!" Zack called out with the rest of his squad, his voice resounding with the absolute truth of the statement – his squad was nothing if not the best and they did nothing without making damn sure it was the best they could do.

They was no such thing as giving up or giving in – not for them.

* * *

Max did a double take – again – as the smallest of the new soldiers wiggled her way down into the foxhole next to her, her expression bright and shiny, almost gleeful.

"This is fun," the small female informed them with a gap-toothed grin.

She couldn't have been much older than six, just a little bit younger than Mandy, Kavi, and Becca, but already her vocabulary rivaled the other X5's, and that was all she could think to say?

Though, to be honest, Max had to admit today was definitely one of their better days. When they'd been distributed their rifles, they'd been suspiciously light. A quick check had confirmed what their advanced brains had already told them – blanks.

It was nice, having a weapon that wasn't loaded, not having to worry about accidentally shooting one of your brothers or sisters.

On the downside, as comforting as that knowledge was, instinct clamored within in her – without having a functioning weapon at her disposal, she felt naked, exposed.

Weak.

"What's your training like?" Jondy asked curiously for her position next to Max. They'd split into six teams, with each small group of five or six getting an IT to go with them.

Max and her family had drawn this one, who the others had called Gift.

"We usually get up around seven and have breakfast in our barracks," the precocious girl informed them, her voice just a tad too loud for their current level of operations, but none of them made any move to shush her.

Truth be told, they were all fascinated by her, especially Bo, who hovered almost protectively over the tiny little thing. She was so young, so refreshingly innocent, she made all of them just want to smile.

"Then they usually feed us some calibration data, which is pretty boring since we figured out their pattern and already know what question they're going to present us with before they do. And then we go out into the yards for a little while, but that's not any fun because they never let us do _anything._" The little girl huffed, like not doing anything was the greatest affront known to mankind.

"We usually have lunch, then work on training and logistics until dinner. We have tests and bloodwork at night, along with intelligence calibration, and then we get to have an hour to read before we have to go to bed."

The little girls attention was caught but a squirrel skittering past, her face lighting up with pure glee at the sight.

Max turned and shared a look with Jondy, suddenly feeling old and wise despite her obvious youth.

* * *

Mercy cocked her head to the side. The other X-series across from her echoed the gesture.

His name was Whip, as he'd so snappishly informed her a scant five minutes prior.

Seth had seemed torn between open hostility and heartfelt suspicion, so he'd left the other X-series with Mercy as he took Ben and Hawk forward to scout.

Tinga and Kavi crouched nearby, their expressions torn between watching their surroundings and watching the strange staring contest Mercy had inadvertently gotten herself involved in.

"Don't you have a mission to execute?" Whip was around their age and extremely moody. He reminded Mercy of Krit on days when Syl wasn't around – something about his attitude just made her want to strangle him.

"You're the IT Unit," Mercy shot back. "Isn't it your job to tell me what's going to happen?"

Whip's lip curled up in pure dislike, his eyes flashing as Mercy fought a grin.

This could almost be fun.

* * *

Wit was having a grand ol' time and Zack was starting to get annoyed.

Out of the whole lot of them – them being the six IT units – she was the only one allowed to carry a gun.

She wasn't an out and out risk – she didn't wave the handgun Cutler had reluctantly given her around like it was a stick and she was planning on bashing someone's head in. But she was just a little too enthusiastic, her finger just a little too close to the trigger for his comfort.

It was making him edgy and she could obviously tell from her controlled efforts to reign in her obvious enthusiasm.

"So why do they call you Wit?" Krit asked, carefully keeping his weapon pointed at the ground as his eyes scanned their surroundings.

"How do you know they call me that?" Wit sounded surprise and Zack had the distinct feeling that she wasn't used to being surprised.

"Hearing," Coop tapped his head with a wane smile. "471 picks up vibrations from the ground."

"Cause of his snake DNA," Wit surmised, cocking her head to the side and giving the X5 a curious look. "I'd been informed some of you could do that. But how did you know my name?"

Krit grinned faintly at that as Syl snickered.

"Cutler was muttering under his breath earlier in the ammunitions hut," Syl informed her dryly. "We all overheard."

"Why do they call you by names instead of designations?" Trip asked, curious. Switch shot him a warning look in reply, causing him to hastily duck his head.

Ahead of them, Zack merely turned his head to the side slightly to acknowledge that he was paying attention and to serve as a warning that they should be as well.

Wit shrugged her shoulders in reply.

"Because of our brains," Wit finally stated after a moments silence. "We're unique."

"We can see that," Trip muttered, earning him a harsh jab from Coop and a slap upside the head from Switch.

Wit fought a snarl as she glared at Trip. Her fellow IT's were sensitive about their weight issues; something about their unique DNA strands caused them to have a much higher BMI than normal.

They'd calculated the odds once, when they were bored, about how long they were going to live for – other than her, it capped out at forty-two for Sage. Wit would live longer than any of the rest of them because her DNA was 'better adapted'.

They were living on borrowed time and they wanted to make every second of it count, which was part of the reason they'd manipulated this training scenario.

"When Manticore set out to create the IT's, they were searching for a smart-soldier with psychic powers. We were originally placed under the realm of Psy-Ops for that reason," Wit explained carefully as she moved forward through the brush alongside them.

"And now?"

"We're under R&D," Wit smiled humorlessly. "Once they figured out that the things we could do had nothing to do with the psionics, they transferred us. By then, our original group of twenty was down to eight."

"But there's only six of you," Syl pointed out, treading forward on cat's feet, so quiet Krit could barely pick up the sounds of her movements.

"The other two died while they were still trying to figure out what made us tick," Wit shied away from the memory of that – she'd been in the labs when first Tink then Gy had died.

They hadn't screamed – you had to have some kind of warning if you were going to scream.

They'd taken Tink while she was sleeping – none of the IT's had the animal DNA that denoted them as predators. They hadn't been aware enough to pay attention to the comings and goings of the lab techs.

Wit had still been in the labs. They'd been performing some sort of endurance test on her, sticking her in a plastic ball and superheating it to test the endurance of the human mind. They wanted to see which would give out first – her body or her brain.

She'd been half-delusional when they'd placed a still unconscious Tink on a lab bed in front of her.

To this day, even with her advanced knowledge of tactics and heuristics, she still didn't know if they'd done that on purpose, placing her there.

They'd hooked her up to some IV's and she'd continued to sleep.

Wit had let her head fall to the side, away from Tink, until the sudden rattling of the bed drew her attention back towards her.

She'd been shaking, shivering so hard the bed was moving across the floor, and her face had been so blue…

"Hey," Wit murmured weakly, sluggishly ordering her barely functioning limbs to move as she knocked against the plastic bubble.

"Hey!" She'd demanded loudly, licking her lips and swallowing, using precious saliva.

One of the techs had glanced over, sparing her an annoyed look before letting her gaze drop back to the test samples in front of her.

Wit remembered begging, screaming even, for somebody, anybody to help Tink. In her heat soaked daze, it almost seemed like a mirage, an illusion.

Tink had eventually stopped shaking, but by then, Wit could tell the other girl had stroked out.

They'd put her on life-support though.

Wit counted her as dead because she was for all intents and purposes, but there was a good chance Tink was buried in the basement somewhere, brain dead but still alive to be used for their sick and twisted experiments.

Gy had been a little over six months later and Wit hadn't been the only one to witness that one.

The oldest of them, Gy was quiet, kind. He loved to read more than he loved heuristics, which was saying something. He devoured Dickens, adored Bronte, and absolutely loved Tolstoy.

He'd gone with them voluntarily, his gaze darting to where the rest of them were sitting before allowing one of the guards to grab his arm and take him from the room.

Wit knew what he'd been doing – if he hadn't gone with them, they would have taken one of the others.

Two days later, they'd been in the labs for a routine check-up when they'd spotted Gy.

He'd been hooked up to a computer, with electrodes directly wired into his brain. His eyes had been open and filled with such anguish Wit had hastily maneuvered Gift, their youngest, away from the sight.

The only reason she knew Gy was dead was she'd seen them transport the body two weeks later.

He'd been dissected more thoroughly than any lab rat and his brain had been completely missing, his eyes wide open as his skull gaped, both of them completely void of any life.

She'd been tugged into a side room before she could see anything more, but that was the day they stopped using them as lab rats.

She didn't know if it was because they'd found whatever it was they'd been looking for in Gy or simply because there were so few of them left, but she was grateful either way.

A resounding whistle broke through the silence of the forest, drawing them all to a halt.

* * *

"What was that?" Brain peered around them with owl-like enthusiasm, wide-eyed and delighted with all the new things he was experiencing.

Austin chewed on the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning, but it was a losing battle. Next to him, Blue, who was in charge of their group, stared in resignation as the girls – Cheyenne, Becca, and even Jace – fluttered around Brain, treating him like the new and interesting toy he was.

"Cease and desist," Jace identified, her voice steady and serious as she cocked her head to the side.

Another whistle followed the first and Blue rose silently to his feet as the others gathered around.

"And that's the regroup signal," Blue nodded for Austin to take the lead, Becca reluctantly parting from Brain to trot after him. Cheyenne hovered happily while Jace fell back to take up position beside him.

"This training mission was supposed to last all day," Jace murmured quietly once the others were out of hearing range.

"Supposed to has little meaning for us any more," Blue replied, equally quiet but with a wry grin.

* * *

Mecca liked Sage; the guy was quiet, unobtrusive, and didn't ask any stupid questions.

Sage, for his part, found the large transgenic equal parts intimidating and irritating.

"Despite my stature, I'm not _that _physically impaired," Sage finally snapped when Mecca motioned for Vada to help him over yet another fallen tree stump.

"Sorry," Mecca apologized with a cheerful little smile. "Just wanted to make sure."

Sage muttered something derogatory under his breath and Mecca's smile widened.

Yep, he definitely liked this guy.

* * *

Eva wasn't quite sure what to make of their IT.

Her name was Book, apparently, and she'd done nothing but recite factoids on every living thing they'd come across since they'd started this training mission.

With nothing really going on and with her blabbering on and on about trees and plants, even the Boy Wonder was starting to look a little glassy-eyed.

"Thank Manticore," Jack was the one to murmur the fated words as the regroup whistle sounded.

For once, the words were sarcastic or derogatory. It was the first time in a long time any of them actually found themselves grateful for an action of Manticore.

* * *

Zack was the first to arrive at the rendezvous point and immediately tensed up when he caught sight of the new additions to the group.

In addition to Cutler, Lydecker now stood at the front of the clearing, his expression almost too happy as he stood next to the blank-faced Staff Sergeant.

There were guards too, with M16's and body armor, which didn't make since. Command would know that the X5's only had blanks – why would they bother with the body armor? It wouldn't protect their precious ordinaries in hand to hand combat.

Nostrils flaring, taking in familiar scents, Zack frowned when Wit drew up short suddenly, bringing all of them to a halt. More than annoyed Zack turned to snap at her, only to hesitate when he caught sight of her near bloodless face.

What the hell was going on?

* * *

Wit felt her gut clench and her face pale as she caught sight of Lydecker, but it was the man hidden behind all those guards that really made her stomach ache.

His name was Leonard Dugray and he was a monster.

He'd been one of their tests a few years ago – help find and stop a serial killer. Manticore had been compensated heavily for their assistance at the time when the IT's had predicted his moves to the point where they'd managed to catch him.

A pure psychopath, Dugray's eyes danced through the clearing, his expression pure calm until it hit on them.

Wit could see his eyes light up, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards in a faintly delighted smile.

She knew the source of his excitement – children.

Dugray loved children. He loved to touch them, he loved to hold them, he loved to kill them in new and creative ways. He was unique in that aspect; his killing method changed, but his victimology remained constant.

He liked 'em young, from six to twelve, and, as the rest of the squad arrived in the clearing, Wit could see his gaze grow more and more enthused.

"Wit!" Lydecker barked, jerking her attention away from Dugray. She could feel his gaze, though, oily and slimy as it landed on her.

"Sir!" She replied, coming to a stop directly in front of him.

They'd learned they could be lax in their attentions with almost anybody on base except when in the presence of the Colonel. He didn't tolerate it and he'd taught them that there were ways to destroy a person without physically harming them at all.

"Assemble your squad for a quick debriefing," he ordered quietly.

"Yes, Sir!" Wit offered him a text-book salute before spinning on her heel and turning to face her family.

"Assemble!" She barked, expression tight as Gift was the first to come trotting over.

Precocious as she was, Gift didn't have any memories of the Dugray simulation. She'd been a baby, still requiring regular naps, and had only worked with them on benign training simulations.

Sage knew who he was, though, and his expression was just this side of terrorized.

"Sage," she hissed, quietly so that none of the others could hear. His eyes snapped to her and she subtly shook her head.

Showing fear in front of Lydecker was like dangling a piece of candy in front of a kid; he was going to latch on to it a savor it and remember it for a later date to be used against them.

Plus, she needed her SIC. Sage was the calm, the voice of reason. His brain was tweaked just a tad bit differently from the rest of them and she needed his unique thought patterns to help her right now.

"Ma'am," he replied, with a faint nod and a deep breath.

Brain slid into place next to her, his expression tight and angry. Whip was just a tad too pale for his normally dark skin tone, and Book had gone completely blank.

"Follow me," one of the guards ordered, marching forward leaving them no choice but to follow.

Next to her, Sage shot her a quick look that basically summarized what they were all feeling; what the hell was going on?

It was a stupid question; within seconds of having the thought, Wit had already come up with over seventy different possible simulations that were about to be conducted.

None of them were even remotely close to humane.

"You know the drill," was all Cutler said as his squad assembled in front of them. Lydecker was on the horn behind them, having a whispered conversation with one of the directors from the other facilities.

This was the real calibration exercise; Cutler had figured that out the second Lydecker had stepped into the clearing.

He was curious and alarmed, though, because he'd caught sight of the expressions on the IT's faces – they knew the prisoner that Manticore had brought into the clearing. They knew him and were afraid of him, which just made Cutler all the more wary.

He didn't like surprises, never had. And judging from the expression on 599's face, neither did he.

They'd done similar runs to this before – Manticore regularly recruited from the general prison population in Cheyenne. Thieves, junkies, gang members, and run of the mill murderers were their usual fare, but this guy…

He was too calm, too cool, too _blank _for him to be anything close to usual.

Every instinct he had was screaming as Zack fixed his eyes on the strange man Wit had been staring at.

The man stared back, a hungry gleam in the depths of his eyes that had Zack baring his teeth in the faintest of snarls.

"Zack," Seth murmured, following the strange mans line of sight as it drifted from them to the rest of their pack, his smile only growing with each passing glance.

"I know," Zack snapped back, causing Mecca to turn to look at the two of them.

The other transgenic was still as surly as he had been that first couple of days, but there was a gradual respect to him now. Zack still didn't like him too much, but the other X5 was proving to be a valuable asset to their squad.

His dead-eyed gaze, though, had Zack straightening.

"He wants to hurt us," Mecca murmured, a surety to his words that Zack didn't bother to question.

"I know," was all he said by way of a reply.

He knew that look, he'd seen it before, had it directed at him.

He'd reaped the consequences of ignoring that gaze once and it had taught him a valuable lesson.

"Don't turn your back on him," Zack instructed, low voiced so that only his squad could hear him. "Not for a second."

Behind him, Max and Jondy exchanged worried looks while Ben frowned at their leader.

It wasn't uncommon for Zack to worry, but usually it was about stuff all of them worried about. Being split up, being shot, being sent to the labs, but this?

The ordinary seemed so…ordinary. From first glance at his shackled hands and feet, he wasn't anything special, just another run of the mill human.

None of them thought to pay particular attention to his eyes, though. Not even Ben, who had the keenest sense of a predator amongst all of them.

Today, they would learn that lesson, though; Zack could feel it in his gut as Lydecker broke away from the IT's and made his way over.

* * *

Book had Gift pulled close and Sage was crowding the two of them with obvious worry. Brain was trying to hide behind the group of them, and Whip was standing next to her, trying not to breath or do anything to draw attention to himself.

Wit tried in vain to catch 599's eye, but the stubborn transgenic had his gaze firmly forward, leaving her with an ashy taste of near certain defeat in her mouth.

Together, Dugray didn't stand a chance against them. But Lydecker was going to split them into teams, send them off individually. And when Dugray caught one of them…

"Hey, Wit," Sage spoke from the huddle of bodies, his normally placid expression hard as he watched Dugray watch the X5's.

"Yes?" Wit was frantically signing against the front of her camo pants, hoping in vain that even if 599 didn't see it, one of the other X5's would.

"How good is their hearing?"

That drew her up short.

"Excellent," she replied, blinking in sudden realization. "And then some."

* * *

Krit wanted desperately to frown and was doing his damn best to hide it even as he inched his way just a little bit closer to Syl.

Vibrations filled the clearing, traveling under his feet and into his body. It was an everyday occurrence he'd learned to tune out as white noise a long time ago, but this time…

There was a distinctive pattern to the vibrations, one that had him thinking he should know what they meant but for the life of him he couldn't figure it out. And it wasn't like he could ask any of his squadmates what was going on.

Out of all the X5's in their section, he was the only one who felt vibrations like this, so he was the only one who could figure out what they meant.

It rankled at him, his finger tapping an apparently sporadic rhythm against his thigh as he struggled with his irritation. Next to him, Syl gave a sudden jerk that had him stilling and struggling not to jerk around to see what was the matter.

"Don't stop," Syl hissed, causing him to start again.

"What?" he murmured back, confused as he kept one eye on the guards and the other on her.

"The tapping," Syl hissed back. "Don't stop."

Confused, Krit obediently continued tapping out the vibrations against his thigh, his head drifting towards Syl with obvious curiosity.

"Eyes Front!" One of the other Trainers in the clearing yelled. Krit responded immediately, jerking his gaze forward and stilling for a moment before an irritated hiss from Syl had him continuing.

Syl had a nervous ball of tension in her gut that only got worse as the message someone was trying to send to Krit became clearer and clearer.

_Danger. Stay together. Do not go alone._

Over and over again, the same thing.

Twisting her head slightly to stare at the prisoner on the other side of the clearing, Syl blinked when his gaze connected with hers and her heart very nearly stopped beating in her chest.

"Syl?" Krit spared a quick glance to make sure the guards weren't watching before twisting his head to stare at the smaller girl.

The scent of her fear filled the clearing, startling not only Krit but the rest of them as well. Brin actually moved to break ranks before a hastily thrown out hand from Tinga obediently moved her back into place.

Before Krit could ask any more questions, Lydecker started to speak.

His voice was quiet, too quiet for them to fully make out what he was saying, but the guards disappeared from the clearing, leaving Lydecker alone with Cutler, two other Trainers, the prisoner, the IT's, and the X5's.

"You know what the rules are, don't you?"

At the front of their group, Zack stood with arms crossed, expression tight. Ben's muscles coiled, eager to move; he loved this game better than all the others ones they played, if they could be called that. Not even Zack's warning could quell his enthusiasm.

Hands and feet, all they were supposed to do was track, disarm, and disable the prisoner for transport back to their facility.

A ripple went alone their whole line as Lydecker moved to stand in front of them, an unspoken signal for them to get ready.

"Krit," Syl murmured quietly, her voice a low growl as she started to crouch. Krit answered her with the faintest of growls. "Stay with me."

"Always," Krit replied with a fierce smile, his eyes lighting up as the predator in him stretched its legs.

"I get to the perimeter fence, I go free," Dugray answered Lydecker in cultured tones, faintly bemused with a heady level of excitement that seemed to multiply as he caught sight of the feral gleams in his opponents' eyes.

"If you succeed," Lydecker warned him, pulling a knife with a sheath from the back of his pants and handing it to Dugray. Dugray accepted the knife with a smile that quickly morphed into a frown as Lydecker passed him a forty-five magnum.

Dugray didn't like guns; he used stun guns on his victims before, but bullets were too quick for him. Even when he'd started off, he had always been careful to do just enough damage to ensure pain and eventual death, but never enough to kill outright. Knives gave him that edge of control, but a gun…

There was an uncertainty there that he'd never appreciated.

One of the Trainers moved over to undo the shackles and Wit felt herself tensing even more as Lydecker's eyes swam over to where the six of them stood.

"Don't underestimate these kids," Lydecker warned, his voice filled with an odd mixture of pride and warning. Dugray's eyes flashed, his arrogance shining through as he sneered in reply.

Dugray wouldn't take the warning seriously – even Gift could have told Lydecker that. Children weren't opponents to Dugray – they were simply prey.

Prey with shiny eyes and bright, feral smiles.

It was Dugray's perfect fantasy come to life.

Wit could say with near one-hundred percent certainty that Dugray was going to die tonight. The question only remained by whose hand and how many he would kill before someone got to him.

The percentage for that was too damn high for Wit's comfort.

"This is wrong," Brain was shaking, all over and his head, a violent reaction to the blatant moral desecration in front of them.

"Wrong," he repeated, his fists clenching tight as he his gaze jerked over to where the X5's stood.

They were all but gone, the whole lot of them caught up in some sort of adrenaline high that had Wit's breath catching in her chest.

"No," she murmured, voice ripe with anguish and out and out terror as she caught sight of 471, as lost in the predator's focus as the rest of them.

All her hopes of averting a disaster crumbled to their foundations in the wake of that look.

"Go," Lydecker instructed Dugray, hitting the timer on his watch as Dugray turned and headed into the woods, not quite running but not walking either.

There was a five percent chance he'd forgo everything except getting to the perimeter fence, but as Dugray disappeared, he spared the children in the clearing one last fierce smile before racing off.

_Less than one percent_, Wit thought to herself, fists clenched in fear and rage.

She tried, vainly and desperately, to get someone, anyone's attention while Lydecker counted down the minutes, the percentage for a one hundred percent survival rate slipping with each passing number until…

"Go!"

The X5's took off, blurring to disappear into the woods, fiercely joyful grunts and a few growls echoing through the clearing, sending shivers down the Trainer's spine and Wit's for two very different reasons.

Without the presence of mind to heed her warning, the chances of all of them making it back alive had just dropped to seven.

At least one of them was going to die tonight.

"Circle up," Lydecker ordered, moving stiffly over to them. Wit carefully schooled her face into a blank expression as she maneuvered herself between Sage and Brain.

Book was across from her, expressionless, with a shallow breathing Whip on her left and an obviously scared Gift on her right.

"Tell me what's going on," Lydecker ordered. Closing her eyes and linking hands with her fellow IT's, Wit took a deep breath before speaking.

"Dugray's doubled back about a quarter mile in…"

**A/N: **Chapter 10 and 11 were originally one chapter but it was approaching ridiculously long so now it's two. I have an idea for the twelfth chapter but right now it's mostly a time crunch issue.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Second half. Kind of…well, you'll see.

Ben's nostrils flared as the trail he'd been following segued back into itself, his eyes lighting up as he turned to signal Max.

The prisoner they were following was smarter than the others; instead of simply running for the fence, he was laying false trails, trying for subterfuge.

It wouldn't do him any good in the end, but Ben was enjoying his effort.

Behind Max, Brin and Kavi were crouched low, their eyes and ears wide open for signs of their target.

Listening, Ben detected nothing. Raising his hand once more, he held up two fingers and flicked them forward, silently rising to his feet as he led them forward once more.

* * *

Zack had taken his team west, moving with speed and determination to circle around their prey and heard him back towards the others.

Tinga crouched next to him, her exotic skin blending with the bark, making her their best shot at a scout. With eyes enhanced especially for night operations, it was a duty Tinga executed to near perfection.

Her partner, Molly, wasn't nearly as good.

Distracted from not having Mandy at her side, Molly was faltering, dragging them all down, and Zack bit back a snarl as he turned his gaze toward her.

_[Focus!]_ He signed agitatedly at her when she turned to him for instruction. Her expression went tight, rebellious, and she began to turn away, prompting him to break cover as he blurred over.

Tinga flinched backwards, away from him and his obvious anger, and Mandy managed an impressive five seconds before she was doing the same, her defiant gaze dropped to the dirt floor beneath him. Reaching over, Zack grabbed her by the chin and jerked her head upwards as he began to sign again.

_[When I tell you to do something, do it] _he moved his fingers rapidly, using the advanced sign languages they had been taught. There were military hand signals, and then there were moments like this, where hand signals just wouldn't cut it.

_[You aren't jeopardizing yourself, you're jeopardizing _**all**_ of us] _Zack continued on, jerking his fingers towards the four other transgenics in the clearing. _[If you can't do your job, then stand down and stay the hell out of our way. Understood?]_

He couldn't get her transferred; he didn't think he had the power to do so. And he definitely wouldn't complain about her to anybody.

Leaders didn't whine about problems: they fixed them. And right now, his best solution was to put Mandy in a support role that required minimum active participation.

Mandy flushed crimson, the bitter scent of embarrassment, anger, and a little bit of fear emanating from her as she struggled with her temper long enough to get out a few jerky signals of her own.

_[Understood, Sir] _She signed, tilting her chin back as she angled her body back towards Tinga. _[I'll do my job]_

Zack stared at her steady for several moments to re-emphasis his point before turning to go back to his previous spot only to freeze as a piercing scream filled the night.

* * *

"Man down! Man down!" It fucked with his head, how the IT's kept repeating the same line over and over again even as frantic screaming pierced the night.

"What the fuck - ?" starting forward, Cutler was reaching for his sidearm when Lydecker beat him to it.

"No!" The other man snarled, jerking Cutler's weapon from his holster so fast it sent a bolt of fear down the younger man's spine.

He'd seen Lydecker in action a couple of times and it was pretty impressive, but until he'd seen the man move faster than a snake, Cutler had been pretty sure he could take the other man if it came down to it.

But that look in the Colonel's eyes coupled with the way his finger was poised just over the trigger had Cutler drawing up short.

"Stand down, Son," the Colonel ordered, flat-eyed but with a pained and regret filled voice.

"Sir!" Cutler snapped back reflexively as he moved once more towards the clearing, sidearm or no sidearm.

"No!" The vehemence with which Lydecker barked that statement had Cutler taking a step back this time.

"Don't," Lydecker warned once more. "It has to be done."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Survival of the fittest," Wit spoke solemnly from the sidelines where she and her family stood.

"If you're not the strongest, you're the prey," Whip's voice was bitter.

"And Manticore is no place for the weak," Sage finished quietly, his gaze fixated just beyond Cutler's shoulder into the woods, a sad quality to his eyes once more causing Cutler's gut to clench.

"It's one of them or it's all of them," Lydecker answered Cutler's unspoken questions with that simple statement.

He wanted to say something – to scream anything at that fucking bastard in that moment. But operating under the effects of rage was a great way to a quick retirement, Manticore style.

So he kept his silence and clenched his fists and waited for something – anything – to happen that he could fucking do something about.

* * *

Syl had forgotten.

She'd forgotten Zack's warning, she'd forgotten the ITs' warning, she'd forgotten herself in the hunt and she was paying the price; they all were.

"Switch!" She practically howled, nostrils flaring as the familiar scent of her sisters blood filled her lungs.

"Switch!" Krit spun around with her, the two of them frantically trying to locate the source of the coppery smelling fluid.

"This way," Hawk snapped, sprinting past them in a blur of speed the two of them quickly moved to echo. The four of them had split up only for a few minutes, with Syl and Krit moving in a straight line while Hawk circled left and Switch took right.

Blurring through the woods, expertly dodging trees and fallen branches, Syl knew they were heading in the right direction as the smell of blood got stronger and stronger.

Bursting into the clearing, she came to a dead stop in tandem with both Krit and Hawk as her heart stuttered in her chest at the sight in front of them.

* * *

Despite years of training and being physically in the best shape someone could be in, Zack's heart was racing and he was struggling for oxygen as he moved forward, the rest of his group ranging behind him. Tinga was closest; her level of speed nearly rivaled his, with Trip and Coop keeping careful range with Mandy.

In an emergency situation such as this, the worst thing they could do was leave a man behind.

It was Zack's job to protect his men, though, so with a burst of speed, he left Tinga behind with the others as he dove through the brush only to come to a skidding halt as he came upon the source of the original scream just as another piercing cry was torn from her throat.

"Hello," the prisoner greeted him with a wide, toothy smile and absolutely dead eyes. "It's so nice you've finally arrived."

"What do you want?" Zack kept his gaze on the strange man, swallowing bittersweet bile as Switch whimpered from the circle of the man's arms.

He must have surprised her because there was no other way for him to have gotten the drop on her – even him surprising her sounded ridiculous. Switch was by no means even close to the least of them.

She was fading, though – Zack's advance hearing couldn't pick up the sound her heartbeat over his own, but the clearing was so saturated with her blood, he didn't need any other sign.

"I have what I want," the prisoner smiled again, loving stroking a hand down the side of Switch's face as he twisted the knife in her thigh deeper.

Her anguished scream echoed through the clearing just as another section of their squad broke through the treeline.

Catching Hawk's eye, Zack twitched his hand slightly, giving the other transgenic a clear sign to be ready.

Switch let out another scream that had Zack jerking his gaze around, nostrils flaring and eyes wide with fury as the prisoner tsked, twisted the knife just enough to draw an agonized moan from Switch's throat.

"Ah, ah, ah," the prisoner tutted. "No cheating. I want all of you where I can see you."

Zack's fists clenched an he glared and the playful gleam in the prisoners eyes dissipated to pure fury.

"NOW!" The roar echoed through the clearing, Switch giving a hoarse yell as her body involuntarily jerked around the knife impaling her.

Teeth bared and shaking with fury, pain, and rage, Zack hastily jerked his hand around, motioning for the others to join him.

Within seconds, seventy-five percent of their squad were ranged behind him in a semi-circle, a collective group of shaking rage and fear that the prisoner scanned with coldly satisfied eyes.

"Much better," he purred, running his hand over Switch's stomach in a back and forth gesture that was hypnotically soothing to watch until you saw the blood.

It was with a start that Zack realized the knife imbedded in her thigh wasn't the first wound Switch had sustained.

"What do you want?" Zack repeated, his voice cracking in desperation as he watched Switch's pale skin grown paler, her eyelids fluttering as her face lost some expression, her brain slowly shutting down her ability to control her muscles.

"I want many things," the prisoner stated. "But I'm going to start simple. Get me to the fence."

Zack jerked at that, his gaze dropping to where Switch was lying limp in a pool of her own blood.

"She won't make it to the fence," Zack choked out, pure desperation in his words as he watched Switch go completely limp.

"Probably," the man agreed, running his bloody fingers over Switch's forehead with a fond smile before raising his gaze to meet Zack's.

"Which is why you're going to offer me a trade."

"A trade?" Zack licked his dry lips, straining his ears to pick up on Switch's heartbeat and breath catching and heart stopping when he found none.

"You," the prisoner pointed at Zack before gently dragging the finger down the side of a Switch's still-as-death face, "for her."

Zack was frozen, and he could feel the rest of his squad growing still behind him.

He had known, with a sort of peripheral awareness, that if it ever came down to his life for one of his squadmates, he'd do everything in his power to make sure his squadmate lived.

He just never thought he'd ever end up in such a situation like this so soon.

It felt like an eternity of quiet, but in reality it was only a few seconds before Zack took a deep breath and spoke.

"Agreed."

* * *

"Agreed."

_Shit._

Lydecker's face was like ice, smooth and glacially cold, impossible to get a read off of, but Cutler could feel it in his bones that this was _not _the way things were supposed to go.

One of the Trainer's on Lydecker's left wrote something on the clipboard in front of him, pausing when Lydecker jerked his head around to stare at him.

"Sir?" The Trainer questioned, pen poised over paper. Lydecker was quiet for a long minute as he weighed his options.

Wit bit her lip and ducked her head, peering out from under her eyelashes at Sage, who was frowning in a similar manner.

They should have lied; with superior intelligence that a computer would be envious of, they should have known better than to reveal to Lydecker and, by default, Manticore, just how close the X5's were.

She was a conflicting mass of emotions – on the one hand, why should it matter to her how Manticore treated the X5's?

Her loyalty was to her squad – as long as they were safe, nothing else mattered.

On the other hand, how could she not help but relate to 599's current situation? She would have given anything to switch places with Tink that day in the labs; how could she fault 599 for willingly doing so now?

None of the others knew about Tink – as far as they were concerned, she was dead and Wit had never done or said anything to the contrary.

But Brain hero worshipped the X5's, Gift adored everybody, and Book had a heart of gold. Sage was a soft touch, and Whip…

Whip hid it well, but he had one of the most highly developed senses of honor Wit had ever seen.

This wasn't sitting well with any of them, which led to a collective thought.

_We have to do something._

The problem here was – they were under guard here…how were they going to do what needed to be done without moving from their spot?

* * *

Zack moved forward slowly, his hands held straight in front of him as he kept one eye on Switch and the other on the prisoner.

The X5's had been designed primarily as a combat force – an advanced infantry to be inserted into hostile foreign territory and fight.

They had training with regards to hostage situations but it was so non-applicable to their current situation they might as well have never learned it at all.

Zack wished Brin were here – she'd found the subject so fascinating she'd actually read all the textbooks she could find in the Manticore library. A cold, dreary place, the library was accessible only by request and most X5's simply didn't bother, but Brin loved her books and Cutler was one of the most easy-going Trainer's on sight, readily giving her permission whenever she requested it.

Maybe if she was here she'd have a recommendation for this situation, but Brin, Ben, Kavi, and Max had yet to appear.

His heart stopped in one gut clenching moment – what if he had already gotten to them? What if Brin and Kavi and Ben were all dead? What if Max –

He cut himself off, his panic causing his steps to falter and drawing a pleasured smile from the prisoner who hummed his approval even as he stroked his fingers softly against Switch's completely slack face.

Reaching them it was with another start that Zack realized he could no longer hear Switch's heart beating.

Horrified, terrified, and shocked – embittered by a sudden overwhelming sense of failure – he did nothing – said nothing – before he suddenly found himself with a sharp pain in his stomach and a knife to his throat as fingers dug into his newly acquired wound.

"There's a good boy," the prisoner breathed into his ear, biting the top of it before releasing Zack's flesh with all-too real laughter.

"You'd better hurry," the prisoner told the others with mocking superiority. "She's gone and he's going to die if you don't get me to that fence soon."

* * *

They knew what had happened – how 599 had been stabbed and was rapidly moving on to become the nights second casualty – but they kept their silence.

"We have to _do _something," Brain insisted in a hissing whisper that had Wit shushing him, her attention focused on the Trainers and Director having a quiet conference just a few feet away.

She was watching their expressions carefully – paying close attention to Lydecker and Cutler especially and the way their eyes would glance over at them, their expressions taking on the vaguest hints of puzzlement before they returned their attentions to each other.

_Their medications must be wearing off, _she thought, the seeds of a newly formed idea taking root.

It was stupid, dumb, reckless, and had a definite risk of injury and even death, but it was an idea and it gave 599 a fighting chance.

The question remained, though – should they interfere?

* * *

Ben growled low and angry in his throat as they reached the clearing to find Syl, Krit, and Hawk crouched over the still body of their sister.

"What happened?" Ben demanded even as Max let loose a keening wail, low in volume but heavy in pain as she dropped to her knees, a pale faced Brin holding Kavi's hand tightly in her own as the two stood over the rest of them.

"The prisoner," Krit's voice choked out, breaking as he bit his lip and a flurry of tears slid down his face.

"We forgot," Syl's voice was dead – completely devoid of emotion giving the elfin blonde a distinctly haunted aura about her. "We forgot the warnings and now Switch is dead and Zack is dying."

"Zack?" Max's head jerked up and Ben's nostrils flared, delivering the scent of his leader's blood to him and sending him stumbling back a few steps.

"No," he whispered through numbed lips, eyes wide and shocked as he turned his gaze to Hawk, who met his eyes dead on and nodded once decisively in confirmation.

_No._

Zack…

"We can save him." The whirled as one, crouching and snarling as their shielded their dead from the newest intruders, so lost in their pain it took them a few seconds to recognize the group in front of them.

"You!"

Cutler was confused but hiding it.

He'd spent the last ten minutes arguing with Lydecker about going to retrieve his kids and now, standing here next to the Colonel and two other Trainer's, he had the distinct feeling that something was missing.

Damned if he could remember what, though.

"Us," Wit confirmed, her gaze straying to the dead body, hastily averting as she swallowed back her bile.

She'd seen worse, but pictures and real life were two different things.

"What can you do?" Syl's voice was harsh, almost accusing and Wit fought back the urge to flinch under its weight.

"We can save him," she insisted, standing tall under their collective gazes.

"How?" Ben demanded, his gaze fixated on his dead sister, wrapped firmly in the arms of his living one. "Can you bring Switch back from the dead?"

"Switch?"

"That's her name," Brin whispered, Kavi's hand clutched firmly in her own as she stared wide-eyed and numb at her sister. "Switch."

"Oh."

She hadn't known they'd named each other – statistically speaking there was a high probability that they had formed bonds beyond the parameters of their training, but naming themselves, given the information they'd been given, had had only a twenty percent probability.

Somehow hearing her name only made it that much harder for Wit to look at the body on the ground.

"We can't bring her back from the dead," Sage spoke, drawing Wit back into the present situation. "But we can save 599."

"How?"

* * *

Zack didn't like blood – too many years of getting blood drawn, of losing blood to injuries, of drawing blood with the violence of his actions.

He was a soldier, he valued victory and he always made sure his men came out on top of the battle.

But he'd failed and now Switch was dead and he was dying.

He was far from giving up, though. He could feel the others, their presences ghosting along in the woods, shadowing them and waiting for the madman to falter, to give them a single opening so they could tear him limb for limb for what he had tried to do their family…for what he had done to their pack.

His calm had been unnerving in the clearing, a sure sign of resolution in his actions: he had been committed to insuring that either his demands were met or Switch died.

Now, though, he, like Zack, seemed to feel the others, and it was making him nervous. And his fear was only adding to the burn in Zack's gut.

"You won't win," Zack was surprised by how guttural the words were, trickling past his lips in a taunting promise that had the man tightening his grip and speeding up his pace.

"Shut up," the man grunted, yanking Zack over a fallen log. "You don't call the shots here, I call the shots here. Clear?"

Zack said nothing in response, merely smiling. His smile faltered, though, as the world wavered out of focus around him.

It was a small thing, but it was a sign. Blood loss was creeping up on him. First came the dizziness, then came the cold and then the shaking. He had to stop the bleeding before it reached the shaking, cause once the shaking started, you were gone.

Manticore could always use the donors, so bringing the dead back to life had never been a priority on their to-do lists.

_I wonder if they could bring Switch back,_ Zack thought from within his haze as he stumbled over another log. The man hissed and Zack snarled in reply, wincing as he received a rough shake for his recalcitrance.

The breeze shifted for a brief second and Zack's nostrils, filled with the scent of blood, flared as a new, familiar odor came drifting in, mingling with the smell of pack.

His head turned and his mouth turned downwards as he stared back the way they'd just come.

What the hell was going on?

* * *

"We remember you," Syl pointed out as the group of them hastily jogged through the woods.

"You're X5," Wit grunted, keeping pace but just barely. It was just her and Sage here. While having the others along greatly increased the chances of their plan being successful, the overall outcome only required at minimum two of them and it had been decided that of their group, only her and Sage were fit enough to keep up with their X5 contemporaries.

"We know that," Syl was doing all the talking and her annoyance was taking forefront on her pain and angry, which was, in turn, causing Wit no small amount of irritation.

"You're X5 specific sequencing enables you to take in our presence for longer periods of time," Sage explained when it became obvious that Wit was at her limit with the pixie blonde.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that ordinaries forget we exist seconds after we leave their presence. Some of us can effect them more than others. If the tech's don't take their medications, they forget Brain exists while he's still in the room."

"And you?" Hawk asked, not even breathing hard as they raced to catch up with the others. "Do they forget you?"

Wit jerked her head to the side a little to stare at Hawk, not liking the knowing look he gave her.

"Sometimes," she finally stated, turning her gaze back to the paths in front of them. "When I want them to."

It was one of the few things about being her that she could control. If she wanted, she could make someone forget her seconds after she entered the room. Sometimes, when she was tired and wanted to be left alone, she did. Sometimes, though, she strained herself to make sure she was noticed.

It was partially the reason why she had leadership over the IT's, because she had the ability to make sure Command noticed her.

She also had the ability to lead, which was why the other IT's followed.

"I can smell them," Ben interrupted, his nostrils flaring as they slowed from their jog, Max taking up position next to him, echoing him breath for breath, her eyes shiny with tears and anger.

"How far?" Hawk asked.

"Not far," Ben replied quickly, inhaling once more before turning to look at Wit.

"What do we do now?"

* * *

Mercy felt completely disjointed from reality as she watched the clearing below, her family ranging around her in a tight knot as they focused on the man below holding their leader hostage.

"Do you smell that?"

Seth tilted his head back, nostrils flaring and eyes lit from within with an eerie glow that made him seem completely inhuman.

"IT's," Blue confirmed, Jace tight by his side as the two of them moved with slack faced efficiency away from the body of a dead guard.

Manticore posted them sporadically to watch their progress and make sure none of them tried for the perimeter fence. Sometimes they knew them, but most of the time they were just nameless faces.

For a brief moment Seth wondered about this guard – was his face that of a brother? Did he have a sibling out there that would mourn his death?

"What are they doing here?" Vada asked, moving up behind Seth, her presence bringing him back to reality with a sharp inhale.

"Don't know," Seth replied, turning his head slightly to look over at the rest of them, hesitating when he saw Jondy go from alert to hyper-alert.

"Max," she murmured, expression blank as she shifted her gaze east. "Max is out there."

"With the IT's?" Mecca arched a disbelieving eyebrow, prompting Jondy to turn on him, teeth bared in a primitive grimace that had him snarling back in reply.

"Mecca! Jondy!" Seth snapped, drawing the two away from whatever battle they'd been about to commence in. "Not here and not now."

Jondy turned her head away with an angry huff and Mecca bared his teeth in one more curled snarl before turning his own head back towards Zack and the prisoner.

"Jondy, take Austin and go back to see what they're doing. Maybe they can help."

"How?" Cheyenne asked, arms clasped tight around her as she struggled against the urge to throw-up, Switch's death-slacked face replaying over and over in her head like a bad training video.

"He doesn't know they're out there," Seth nodded to the prisoner, who turned his head to give them that same superior look he'd shot at them right as Switch died in front of them.

"They don't have any weapons," Becca pointed out, ducking against Austin as they moved as a group towards the next guard and one step closer to the perimeter fence.

"We don't need weapons," Seth replied grimly as he stared back at the prisoner. "We have each other."

* * *

The plan had one major complication – the IT's had to get ahead of the prisoner, get close enough to affect him without having him notice them.

Sage was there to cause the initial bought of amnesia – Wit would take care of the rest.

And the others?

They were the distraction.

They were Zack's only hope.

* * *

"Who the fuck are you?" Zack was bleary eyed, completely unfocused, but he tried anyways, letting his head roll loosely on his shoulders as he stared in front of him.

Reality, shaky as it was, seemed to waver all the more and it was like there was a ghost in front of him.

One of the trainers had made a joke about ghosts once – spooks in the night. He'd laughingly stated that command used them to spy on everybody.

Worried, Zack had tasked Brin with finding out more information, but what she brought back was just plain puzzling.

The concept of life after death had never really occurred to. Death, he'd viewed as sort of like the end of a training mission. Once it was done, it was done.

He'd felt sick at the thought of any of his dead siblings still hovering in Manticore, forced to obey Command even after they'd given all they had.

_Will they get me next?_ He wondered as the prisoner gave him another harsh shake.

"Wake up!" He snarled, bringing Zack back to reality with a startled jerk.

"Keep moving," the man ordered, paranoia creeping into his voice as he glanced towards the woods where the others hovered, their eyes glowing as dusk settled around them.

"No tricks!" He yelled, giving Zack another rough shake. "Or he's dead, you hear me? He's dead!"

The yell echoed through the woods and Wit could see Sage flinching even as she moved closer to the prisoner.

He was moving, which meant Sage was moving, carefully to keep far enough ahead of him that he couldn't hear, but close enough that the chemicals their body emitted were still strong enough to keep him invisible.

Wit breathed quietly as she paced closer to the prisoner, going dead still when he whirled around, the whites of his eyes flashing in the darkening night as he searched frantically for someone, anyone, who was behind him.

"I'll kill him!" He yelled again, pressing the knife tighter against 599's throat. "Don't think I won't!"

Wit's muscles tensed as the knife bit into 599's skin, drawing a thin line of blood. The X5 made a pained noise, low in his throat, his head tilting back as far as he could make it to get away from the sharp edge.

"Show yourselves, you sonsofbitches!" The prisoner hollered, not bothering to glance up to where the X5's were; he knew someone else was here, following him.

The man shuffled a few steps forward, not bothering to watch the placement of his feet.

He never saw the vine and he never saw the force that ripped the boy from his arms as he went down.

"Now!" Wit yelled, cutting the chemicals off so quickly it was like she'd just appeared out of thin air.

"You!" The prisoner snarled with recognition as he lunged with his knife.

He was too close and she wasn't fast enough or strong enough, but she tried – throwing herself in front of a limp 599, she let out a startled yelp as the knife slashed into the meat of her arm, eyes closing as she waited for another cut that never came.

She opened her eyes slowly, carefully, her breath escaping in harsh pants as she took in the scene in front of her.

"Becca, Kavi, Mandy," Seth growled, eyes on the prisoner as he paced in front of the snarling madman. "Take Zack to the check-in. Now!"

Becca and Mandy moved forward without question, but Kavi hesitated, his eyes flashing as he raised his gaze to meet Seth's.

"No," he rumbled quietly, lips curled up in a slight snarl. "I'm staying."

Seth growled louder but Kavi remained steadfast and firm, straightening to his full height, slight as it was, as the other two X5's hesitated, each of them supporting one of Zack's blood slicked arms over their shoulders.

"Molly," Seth barked, turning his attention to the other X5's. "Go."

Molly didn't hesitate, grabbing Zack's feet as the three of them blurred into the woods, leaving the rest of the squad to stand guard over the prisoner.

"He killed Switch," Mercy snarled, pacing angrily. Her skin was tight and there was this feeling in her gut, like pain only stronger, more powerful and demanding than anything she'd ever felt.

"He hurt Zack," Ben growled next, not bothering to pace as he lowered himself into a slight crouch, his gaze never leaving the prisoner.

"He hurt our pack," someone rumbled from the middle of the group.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" The prisoner had gone from madness to a sort of wildness, scrambling to his feet as he whirled in a circle, frantic to keep them all in his line of sight and whimpering when he couldn't.

"Run," Seth let the single word trickle past his lips in a primitive growl that had part of his brain stepping back. Reason and logic seemed to fade under the surety of the knowledge that this man was a threat…and he needed to be eliminated.

"Run!" Mecca was the next to snarl, with Vada echoing the command on his left. It ran through the line of them, one feral growl after another until they were yelling it, screaming it, and the man couldn't take it anymore.

Hands pressed over his ears, sobs ripping through his throat, he stumbled to his feet, taking a few faltering steps before he got his legs beneath him.

Seth watched him go, his family, his _pack _ranging impatiently behind him.

Mecca took an angry step forward and Seth jerked his head around to snarl.

"No!" He snapped, teeth bared at the other male. "We wait."

Behind him, Ben, Max, and Jondy trembled next to each other, the sides of their arms brushing as the three of them slowly started to drop their weight on the balls of their feet, preparing themselves.

"Krit," Syl breathed, reaching out blindly to lay her hand across her packmates thigh, reassuring herself of his presence.

"Syl," he rumbled back, his breath warm on the back of her neck as he brushed the back of his wrist against her side.

"Seth," Vada spoke the word low and deep, her voice unrecognizable as hers as she edged the male on, adding her impatience the swirl around them until Seth was crouching, too, under the weight of it.

He inhaled, holding the breath as he listened. He could hear the prisoner running, faintly in the distance, and his lips, already curled, rose higher in a primal facsimile of a smile as things just…clicked.

"Now," he breathed once before he was gone.

* * *

Feral yips erupted from throats and Wit closed her eyes as the X5's blurred from the clearing.

"They're going to kill him," Sage spoke quietly from next to her.

Wit turned her head slightly, her gaze on the ground but Sage in her peripheral as she went over what was about to happen in her head.

He'd be ripped apart, limb for limb. They'd tear his chest open, claw out his heart, rip off his hands.

They would be cold, emotionless, not hot and enraged; they were protecting, avenging, ensuring the decimation of a threat.

And Manticore would freak.

The X4's were the animals – the X5's were supposed to be civilized, the perfect soldier. Obedient, cold, efficient.

In Manticore's perfect world, the X5's would be assembled in front of Lydecker right now, the prisoner alive and well in hand.

Instead, they were in the woods…hunting. More animal than human in those moment, lost in their protective instincts.

When Manticore found the body, Squad 3 would go into lockdown. They'd be tested, poked, prodded…dissected from the inside out.

They were the best and brightest and Manticore would sacrifice them in a heartbeat to get the answers for today's events.

"We should stop them," Sage uttered without any real demand behind the words.

"Yes," Wit replied, turning her gaze back into the woods. "We should."

The two of them stood their in silence for one long moment before Wit let her breath out in a sigh.

"Come on," she stated, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she gestured the older transgenic over. "We have to go find a dog."

* * *

He was too easy to track. Panicked, he hadn't bothered with his early tactics to try and confuse them, running instead in a straight line, going back over terrain they'd already covered, already cleared of occupants.

Ben was the first to get to him – the young transgenic male had always operated best in the woods, with Max coming in a close second.

He took the prisoner down with a simple kick to the back of the knee, the sound of his leg breaking echoing through the clearing.

It wasn't nearly enough.

They circled again, waiting patiently for a signal or sign.

Seth stood at the head, closest to their prey, eyeing the man with disgust and hatred and eyes…

"Oh my god," the prisoner breathed, staring into the eyes. "You're not even human. What kind of a monster are you?"

Seth's lips curled in a feral, threatening smile as he tensed his limbs.

"Better," was the single word he breathed before making the first move.

* * *

"What happened?" Lydecker was pacing – they'd taken the body of 365 and 599's barely conscious form to the infirmary and had been waiting the past fifteen minutes, searching for the other X5's.

Trainer Adams was the first to stumble across them, huddled in a mass next to a bloody lump and a snarling dog.

The kids had bites all over, the whites of their eyes rolling as the dog snarled at them, teeth bared and covered in…

"Jesus," Adams swore again as he faced Lydecker, running a hand down his face as if he could wipe away the horror of what he'd just seen.

"The dog just…he's dead. The prisoner…" Adams placed a hand over his mouth as he choked on his bile.

"Get rid of the body," Lydecker snapped, turning his attention to the X5's in front of him. "And shoot that damned dog!"

* * *

Wit stood in line next to Sage, the IT's reunited as they stood, patiently waiting for a medicated tech to retrieve them. Cutler couldn't see them and Lydecker was too focused on his kids to bother to try.

"You're taking a big risk," Book murmured next to her. "Helping them."

"I know," Wit replied, eyeing 353, their temporary CO, carefully. "It'll be worth it."

The others said nothing, exchanging uneasy looks but trusting her judgment on this matter.

Seth could still see the IT's, even though it was abundantly apparent neither Lydecker nor Cutler nor anybody in the clearing was aware of them.

The dog had come out of seemingly nowhere, sneaking up on them when they were in such a heightened state that Seth found it a little hard to believe that he hadn't had help.

He was curious, of course, as to why the IT's were helping him. Grateful, since his neurons, hyped on adrenaline, were firing faster than normal, leaving him with the distinct pressure of the knowledge of what they'd just done.

He didn't regret it – given the opportunity, he'd do it again. Anything to protect his family.

But he'd be more careful about it.

They'd left a bloody mess in that clearing and none of them regretted it. He could feel the peace flowing through them despite their newly acquired wounds from both the prisoner and the dog.

But Manticore had given them strict orders and Seth knew the consequences of violating them just as well as the rest of his squad.

The IT's – Wit – had given them a way out.

And he would never forget them for it.

* * *

_**Two weeks later…**_

Wit stood across from thirty-one very curious X5's.

They lined either side of the hallway leading to the infirmary, the six IT's on one side, the X5's on the other.

The looked…dull. Lackluster – like the whole of them had died in that clearing instead of just Switch.

She wanted to offer them sympathy – to support them – but anything she said would be forgotten moments later, just like the rest of them.

Their leader, 599, recently returned from the infirmary, was eyeing Sage carefully with a frown, as if he sort of recognized him but couldn't quite place him.

Sage, for his part, didn't so much as twitch under the scrutiny.

They were both there for weekly check-ups and blood work, the usual routine, so Wit wasn't expecting much to happen until the infirmary doors opened and a doctor emerged, pushing a frightened transgenic female in front of her.

"Here you go, 599," the doctor chirped, entirely too cheerful for her job. "365, good as new."

"Fall in!" Cutler yelled before any of the other X5's could do much more than stare.

Wit was moving, taking a step forward before she could stop herself and coming up short as Sage grabbed her arm and yanked her back.

"That's not…" she trailed off, head turning as she watched Squad 3 march away.

"I know," Sage replied, gruff voiced. "But we can't tell them that. They won't believe us."

"We can try – " Wit started to argue only to be cut off by Brain.

"It won't do us any good – she thinks she's 365."

Wit's throat ran dry as the calculations danced in her head.

"Psy-Ops?" The other five said nothing, even tiny little Gift dropping her gaze as the mulled over the implications of that.

"She's dangerous," Whip hissed, watching them through the window.

"But we can't do anything," Wit sighed, stepping back to lean against the wall, her eyes closing as her heart thundered in her chest.

"They'll figure it out," Gift insisted, but her voice was weak in its resolve.

"But not soon enough," Wit breathed, opening her eyes and straightening with an angry scowl. "Nowhere soon enough."

A/N: The second half of Chapter 10! Chapter's 1 – 3 of Bohica are finished but Chapter 3 is actually just the second half of Chapter 2. Chapter 1 of Dark Territory is done and Chapter 2 is in the plotting stages (you honestly have no idea how excited I was when I finished it). I had two other stories planned (Obsolete and Burn and Bleed) but I may end up deep sixing at least one of them if I start to get buried again. My greatest fear is that chapters is different stories are going to become carbon copies of each other so if that happens one of the stories is going.

Anyways, reviews? Pretty please?


	12. Chapter 12

**August, 2010**

_**Washington, D.C.**_

Turn over was a hell-of-a-bitch. Lydecker understood the high burn out rate amongst Manticore employees, but he was taking serious issue with the constant ring-around-the-rosey with directors.

He'd warned command Shepherd was senile, Martinez was crazy, and Blaise was stupid, but nobody fucking listened to him and now he had two new idiots to deal with and command seemed to be angling for a third.

Manticore didn't have any annual anythings – picnics, family get togethers, employee bonding trips. They preferred to keep their people paranoid and on edge – it made clean-up of the inevitable problems so much easier. Lydecker was starting to feel, however, that Manticore was thinking of making a thing of these Director meetings.

He sat at the head of the table as was his due – the other Director's were in charge of facilities but Lydecker held sole command over the whole fucking program. Kincaid sat furthest from him at the opposite end with Jacobs taking up space in the middle and the two new guys sitting on the other side.

Lydecker had met both John Ambrose and Samson Holly before. He'd helped supervise their training and evaluations since they'd been appointed. But this was the first time Kincaid had met either of them face to face and Lydecker was interested in what the youngest director had to say.

"You're an idiot," Kincaid informed Ambrose bluntly. Atlanta was sort of the problem child of the Manticore program – Blaise had been a fucking idiot about training the elite soldiers placed under her command. Lydecker had been there and while he had to say the X5's weren't exactly anything to sneeze at, none of them were quite up to par with the expectations of the Manticore program. And their Alpha squad was just goddamn fucking weird.

"Excuse me?" Ambrose was a step up from Blaise since he had actual combat experience, but his training methodology was flawed. He seemed to be operating under the massive delusion that the X5's were just regular soldiers and could be treated as such.

"You've got the cutting edge of biological warfare sitting on their asses in your facility when they need to be out there training." From his position to the left of Ambrose, Holly shifted slightly, an action Lydecker took note of.

Syracuse and Atlanta both had yet to send any of their squads out on terrain-specific training missions, but whilst Ambrose was being fucking lazy, Lydecker actually thought Holly was being smart. Atlanta was a trip of a place, but Syracuse had been a fucking nightmare. Even now Holly was still trying to put things back together again and it'd been almost three fucking years since the explosion.

"You do the same shit over and over again with these kids, they're gonna get bored," Jacobs chimed in. "And when they get bored they get lazy and fucked up – just like regular soldiers."

"The training regime was specifically designed – " Ambrose started only to be cut off by Kincaid.

"For regular soldiers in regular combat situations." Ambrose shut his mouth with an audible click. "The X5's are not normal, Mr. Ambrose."

Kincaid was deliberately replacing the title of Director with the generic substitute and Lydecker knew why. Kincaid was a soldier, through and through. He'd been with the Manticore program since X4's had been their leading force. He knew these kids almost better than Lydecker did and he knew what should and shouldn't be done with them and Ambrose was hitting all the wrong buttons.

"You cannot treat them like green behind the ears privates. They are trained killers, lethal weapons in pretty packaging. You think just cause they're kids you can do whatever the fuck you want and call it training?"

Kincaid's voice didn't fluctuate in pitch. He didn't even sound angry, just mildly annoyed but even Jacobs, who had less contact with Kincaid that Lydecker, could tell the kid was pissed.

Ambrose was flushed scarlet under Kincaid's brutal honesty, but Lydecker felt a spark of hope because Ambrose was finally doing the one thing he'd needed to do – listening.

* * *

**Gillette Manticore**

**August, 2010**

Lydecker was off-site – everybody and their mother knew this not because he advertised it but because when Lydecker was gone, Martin was in charge. And Martin gave fuck-all about protocol.

"Brass wants to see if we can reproduce the X5 savagery," Martin told Cutler in an almost conversational tone. "You'll be participating in a purely observational role. Do you have a problem with that, soldier?"

Cutler had a real problem with that – a ten foot giant, fuck-you-very-much problem, but he bit his tongue. Push come to shove, at the end of the day he was still their Trainer. Fuck with Martin, who'd been given his position personally by the brass, and he'd be lucky to be reassigned to a freak squad. Hell, most of the time Martin just sent people to the basement and only about a fourth of them ever came back up.

"No," Cutler bit out, purposely leaving off the Sir because he knew it would irritate Martin to no end and because Martin was a glorified body-guard in a past life and nowhere near to anything remotely resembling an actual soldier.

"Good." Martin's smile was tight and unfriendly and Cutler knew he'd just fucked up even before Martin opened his mouth to speak again. "Let 'em out."

* * *

The humidity was thick and cloying bringing so many scents with it even Sky, who had the best nose out of all of them, couldn't sort through them all.

They'd been taken out into the woods again in their sweatpants and t-shirts, their sweaters disregarded back at base because of the warm August temperatures. They hadn't been debriefed on anything, only given the order to change and then marched out here.

It wasn't on the schedule – they were supposed to be in the tank all night. Normally they'd rather be anywhere but the tank, but tonight, with the fresh memory of Switch's almost death still edging at the front of their minds, they'd gladly have stayed in the tank rather than gather in the woods.

They wore light-weight sweats and t-shirts in standard issue gray, gathered in an informal clump instead of ordered lines because Martin was in charge.

He didn't have an official designator – no official rank or job description to give even a hint as to how to address him – and he didn't seem to give much by way of a flying fuck concerning military protocol either.

Nobody, not even the Colonel himself, seemed to know anything about Martin and that was a cause for alarm in and of itself.

"Your mission is simple," Martin stated, standing calmly in front of them with a guard armed with an AK47 on either side. "Find and eliminate all hostiles before they eliminate you. The training exercise will last until everybody on one side or the other has been eliminated."

Zack tensed from his position to the rear and left of the group. Normally he'd be standing in the front, protecting from the lead, but the woods had them all paranoid and he was much more afraid of what would come at them from behind where the shadows lay than in front of them where Martin stood.

"Any questions?" As expected, thirty-two silent soldiers said nothing.

"Excellent." Martin said the word with absolutely flat inflection. "The enemy has already been released into the woods. You may begin."

* * *

Seth glanced silently over at Zack, waiting for his slight nod before turning and heading cautiously into the woods.

They traveled in a silent cluster, a breach of training and intelligence if there ever was one, but there was some sort of instinct that had them forming into a pack rather than separating.

"What do you think it is?" Vada was the first to ask once they were out of earshot of brass.

"Something bad," Zane deadpanned, his eyes never once stopping their continual scan of the woods.

"Live fire bad or there's-something-out-here-that-wants-to-eat-me bad?" Trip joked, his heart tripping in his chest as something in the woods gave an eerie howl.

"I don't – " Seth started only to stop dead when something even more alarming sounded around them.

It was a wild and raw sound, the kind no sane creature could ever make because it meant too much, meant losing too much of yourself. It was an all-out banshee shriek that they all knew very well.

"Nomalies." Out of all of them Ben fell the hardest, his heart beat rising even as his stomach sank. His palms sweated, his breathing labored with his heart beat, and his pupils dilated as the implications hit him.

"Nomalies," Sky agreed with a quick sniff of the air. "At least six."

"Hawk?" Zack asked.

"I don't see anything," Hawk answered. "But that doesn't mean shit. You know what they're like."

It had been years since Manticore had done any exercises with the nomalies – originally they'd been used for find and retrieve missions, than seek and destroy, and now…they'd run out of the reasonably sane scientific blunders ages ago. All that was left were nightmares.

"We should stay together," Cheyenne broke the sudden silence.

"We can't," Zack replied, tilting his head towards the trees, drawing all their attention towards the camera that was watching them.

"Fuck," Seth stared at the camera with his teeth bared in an open snarl, hating it because it meant they were watching them and because of that fact they had no choice but to separate. Sticking in a large clump was a violation of their training and they couldn't afford any fuck-ups when Command was watching.

"Four groups," Zack stated calmly. "Eight each. Seth, Eva, Mecca, you guys are in charge."

Mecca jerked his head back towards Zack at the mention of his name, his expression showing the briefest flash of surprise before evening out. If Zack had blinked he would have missed it, but Zack didn't blink. He met and held Mecca's stare, his eyes clear and focused. He was trusting Mecca here – the other X5 had proven to be an invaluable member of their squad but this was the first time Zack had put any of them in a position of power. Mecca understood the implications and nodded his head once in understanding – he wouldn't let Zack down.

"Vada, Tinga, Kavi, Cole, Alyx, Brin, and Zane are with Seth." The named transgenics moved silently to stand with their leader. "Ben, Max, Jondy, Molly, Mandy, Switch, and Mercy are with me."

Zack was keeping Switch close from now on – no way was he letting her out of his sight. Molly had been doing much better lately, but he still wanted her with him where she was least likely to screw up. Keeping Mandy with her would keep her focused, too. Max, Ben, and Jondy were also their best escape and evade, seek and destroy team. They functioned the best together. And Mercy wouldn't even have bothered to listen to him if he had tried to assign her to any team other than the one Switch was on.

"Jack, Bo, Blue, Jace, Hawk, Cheyenne, and Sean are with Eva." Eva would want her brother close, Bo was a medic, Jace and Blue worked great together, and Hawk had a protective streak a mile wide about Cheyenne while Eva was inordinately fond of Sean.

"Sky, Coop, Trip, Krit, Syl, Becca, and Austin are with Mecca." Sky was also a medic, Austin was strong enough to back Mecca should need be and was also protective of Becca. Krit and Syl and Coop and Trip were two sets of inseparable friends that functioned best together, as well.

It wasn't ideal, but nothing in Manticore ever was.

Normally this was the point where Zack would be handing out group designators, but there really wasn't much of a point. They had no radios and they knew the scent of each others blood so well at this point they wouldn't even need noise to know if one of the others needed their help.

Zack indicated positions instead, sending Seth's team south, Eva's north, Mecca's west, while he indicated for his group to head east.

They separated with Zack leading the way, motioning for his group to move down and blend into the woods as they slowly made their way forward, their eyes on the shadows as they each uttered the same silent prayer.

_Let us win._

* * *

"How we doing?" Martin asked, accepting a cup of coffee from a tech as he slid into a seat behind the vast array of television monitors that had been set up for the purpose of watching the animals in the woods – all four dozen of them. The thirty-two transgenic soldiers who were the crux of this experiment and the sixteen nomalies who were essentially cannon fodder.

"Right as rain," one of the techs stated, leaning back in his chair as his eyes studied the screens. "They split up just like they were trained too."

"Anything special happen?"

"Nope," the tech took a sip from his own coffee. "Everything textbook execution."

"Poor bastards," Martin muttered, settling back and waiting for the carnage to begin.

* * *

The first nomalie surprised Seth's group, falling down and on top of Cole before any of them could so much as sense it.

Cole's scream echoed in the night as the nomalie reared back, baring it's mouth full of four rows of canines, a chuck of flush from Cole's shoulder dangling off of them.

"Vada!" Seth yelled in warning, but Vada didn't hear it as a second nomalie barreled into her side, running her into the shadows where even Seth's vision couldn't track.

The nomalie on top of Cole howled, the sound grating to the soul as it gulped down the chunk of meat in it's mouth before darting back in for more only to come up short as Alyx's foot slammed into it's gut.

It rolled off of Cole, scrambling to its feet faster than expected and swiping, drawing a startled cry from Alyx as it's full hand of claws swiped across her forward, opening it up and flooding her eyes with blood.

The nomalie hissed, slamming forward and into Alyx's gut, it's teeth barreling for her throat when Tinga was suddenly there, yelling as she landed a roundhouse kick straight to it's face.

It fell back, stunned, and Tinga mistakenly assumed this meant they had time because she started for Alyx only to yell as she was physically grabbed and thrown straight up into the branches overhead, falling back down to the earth with a sickening crunch that echoed inside her head even as her vision faded out.

* * *

Ben found the nomalie first, spotting it in between the shadows and drawing to a dead stop as it bared its fangs.

"I remember him," he whispered softly to Max who had come up to stand at his shoulder. "He tried to eat me."

"Eat you?" Mercy started, turning to look over at Zack who had the look of sudden dawning that meant he'd just figured something bad out.

"Kill it," he stated, his voice completely dead as the rest of the group, save Ben, turned to look at him. "Manticore wants us to kill them."

"What?" Mandy's tiny voice was shaky as she huddled closer to a silent Molly, her expression making it clear she'd already figured it out even as she let the smaller transgenic huddle close.

"Eliminate," Max whispered, feeling sick to her stomach as the nomalie smiled at them. "We have to eliminate the enemy before they eliminate us."

"It's a fucking massacre."

* * *

Seth grabbed the nomalie as it moved towards the three fallen transgenics, his entire body amped to the nth degree as he leapt on it's back, ignoring it's startled howl and struggling with it's head as it's deadly claws swiped at his legs, clawing furrows into his thighs even as he strained, pushing himself to his limits and beyond until there was a crack.

Seth knew the nomalie was dead even before the body hit the ground. Pushing himself off of it, he crouched low, using his nose to sniff the air and whirling around when the scent of Vada's blood hit him from behind.

"Vada," he started to his feet only to rock back a step when the female in question stumbled from the woods, right arm hanging uselessly by her side as Kavi and Brin supported a barely conscious Zane between them.

"What happened?" He asked, ignoring the dead transgenic at his feet as he stepped towards them.

"He tried to kill us," Vada stated, voice completely void of inflection, eyes shining fiercely as Seth's gaze jerked up to her face. "We killed it first."

* * *

Becca wasn't breathing.

They'd seen the nomalie coming but it hadn't done them much good – it was big, strong, and it had batted Becca into the air like a piece of garbage.

She'd hit the ground hard but they hadn't heard anything crack so Austin was hoping, praying, that Becca's heart had just gotten a little stunned and would restart itself.

Krit snarled in frustration as he clawed with his fingers at the arm that was wrapped tightly around an unconscious Syl, her face starting to turn a mottle purple as she gasped in wide-eyed fear at both Krit and Mecca, both of them snarling as they struggled with the nomalie's one arm.

"It's throat," Sky yelled, ducking under the arm of the second nomalie that had darted into the melee, heading straight for Becca like she was some sort of forgotten scrap of meat and coming to a screeching halt as first Austin and then Sky had used their fists and feet to stop it.

"I'm trying!" Coop yelled, slamming backwards into a tree with a painful grunt, pushing right off again to slam himself back into the monster's gut, sending the whole group stumbling back a few steps. It was enough of a distraction that the monster loosened it's grip on Syl enough for Mecca to pull her out, shoving her into Krit's arms before shoving the two of them away and jumping.

He landed on the things back with an angry snarl, his nails digging painfully into the sides of it's neck, filling the woods with its angry sound of pain and then the monster threw back it's head and Mecca's grip faltered and he was flying…

* * *

"It's dead," Eva's breath was a shaky sob as she struggled to control herself, her arms wrapped tightly around her brother not because he'd been hurt but because he was covered in nomalie blood and he was still hitting the thing even though it was dead.

"It hurt us," Jack's voice was deeper than usual, a primal snarl of angry and offense as he raked his hands over the bloody, unrecognizable face of the monsterous thing once more before turning his attention to his sister. "It tried to kill us. We have to protect ourselves."

"Jack – " Jace started forward only to step back when Hawk put an arm out to stop her.

"Jack," Eva's voice was trembling as she struggled with some part of her, deep inside, that was urging her to listen but she couldn't hear anything, couldn't understand what it meant until Hawk knelt down next to Jack.

"We have to protect ourselves," Hawk whispered, carefully touching the bloody face of the nomalie before glancing over at Jack. Jack's eyes searched Hawk's face carefully for comprehension, nodding his permission once he realized Hawk understood.

"What – " Sean started only to stop, the words dying in his throat as Hawk buried his hands in the nomalies open gut, the blood still flowing. Hawk pulled his arms out and touched his face, smearing the blood everywhere and blinking his blood-clumped eyelashes at Eva, his teeth baring in a primitive snarl that echoed Jack's.

"We have to protect ourselves."

* * *

Zack was only just hanging on to the nomalie, his arm buried in the things mouth as a distraction as Ben coughed up some more blood and Max buried her fist once more into the side of the things head in an effort to get it to let go.

Mercy could feel it building – that instinct, that urge to protect – the need to keep her family safe at all costs. The world disappeared, training disappeared – reality ceased until all there was was blood – the blood of her family, and the blood of the enemy.

* * *

"Fuck," coffee was spilt all over the damn place as men watched with sick stomachs and horror struck eyes the carnage unfolding in front of them.

"Steady, gentlemen," Martin murmured, eyes never leaving the screens. "This is what we were hoping for."

"A bloodbath?" Somebody murmured.

"Try a fucking horror show," somebody else bit out. "Jesus fucking Christ, is that - ?" He never finished his sentence, the ugly sound of wretching filling the room.

"Take it outside," Martin barked, showing the first shines of emotion as he spared the offending party an annoyed look before turning his gaze back to the monitors.

Command had wanted a controlled experiment – they'd figured out it hadn't been the dog who'd fucked up that convent a few months ago but the kids themselves and they wanted to know if they could replicate that kind of savagery.

It'd been a killing three birds with one stone kind of deal – it got rid of the nomalies who were utterly fucking useless for anything except target practice. It brought out the animal instincts in the X-series which had been what a lot of the Committee had been waiting to see. Too many of the previous series were so fucking human and the X5's had seemed no different, all their superhuman abilities inside. It was one thing to train somebody to kill but the Committee wanted to know the X5's had the instincts to follow through.

And the third bird was the one Martin was sorely looking forward to killing – Lydecker. He babied this fucking squad like they were his own damn kids and the Committee was sick of his proprietary attitude. This was Lydecker's reminder – the X5's belonged to the Committee and so did the man himself.

The experiment in savagery was breathtaking to watch – better than any animal planet special Martin had ever seen.

Watching as 353 snapped the neck of one nomalie while 205 shoved his fist through the gut of another. And then 599 – the leader of these so-called elite soldiers, used his teeth to rip out the throat of another after 633 ripped it's fucking arm off in an impressive display of strength.

All across the screens carnage reigned – fists, hands, teeth, feet, claws – the X5's used everything in their savagery, ripping the nomalies limb for limb until there was only one left.

* * *

None of them could smell anything through the blood that cloyed their nostrils and none of them cared. Discipline and order were gone – only instinct reigned.

They cornered the last nomalie as a one, surrounding it. In the back of their minds they registered it's fear, some cognitive part of their brain identifying its expression as such, but it meant nothing to them.

Their leader moved first, signaling the start of the hunt. It was a brief chase, though. They were stronger and faster and the nomalie was nothing but a clump of dead and useless flesh in a matter of minutes.

They stood over it, expressions empty as they studied it for only a moment before turning their attention back to the woods.

There were still more left for them to hunt.

* * *

"Round 'em up," Martin ordered, making a check on the clipboard as the last nomalie was ripped apart. "Take some pictures first, though."

"You want a photo album or something?" the guard he'd tossed the camera too asked, voice tense.

"I want evidence," Martin replied. "Ten to twenty should do."

"Total?" Martin spared the guard a demeaning look.

"Each. Get their hands and teeth. And get some lab techs out here – I want samples from all of them as well. Blood, urine, the works. And take scrapings from their nails and teeth – I want kill totals for each of them."

"You want the moon as well?" the guard muttered sarcastically under his breath as he turned to go.

"Maybe next week," Martin replied, tossing his empty coffee in the trash as he stretched and yawned. "Call me when it's done."

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

They vaguely recognized that their new prey wasn't anything like their old – it wasn't nearly as fast or strong or powerful save for the weapon in its hands.

_Gun,_echoed through each of their minds, that cognitive part providing a useful identification and warning before settling down once more.

Their prey didn't get a chance to use the gun – they descended quickly and silently, snapping its neck and letting it fall silently to the ground as they spread out and went for the others.

There was yelling and screaming and crying and more blood but it didn't matter to them – they wouldn't stop until every last one of the enemy was dead.

* * *

Cutler hadn't slept at all. He'd spent the night whole up in one of the empty labs with a fifth of whiskey that he didn't dare touch while two Manticore guards kept silent watch outside the door. He stared at the amber liquid wondering silently if he could ever drink enough of it to make things better.

_Doubt __it,_he thought to himself, leaning back in his seat and sparing the clock on the wall a quick glance. The training exercise as Martin had called it had been going on for almost six hours now.

"I wonder how many of them are dead." It had been so long since he'd heard any noise that he was almost startled by the sound of his own voice piercing the silence.

He felt his gut clench in angry and finally thought fuck it – Martin could do whatever the hell he wanted but that was Cutler's goddamn unit out there. It was his duty to protect them. He was on his feet and heading for the door, plotting the quickest way to take out the two guards when the door was suddenly pulled open and he was face to face with the most unexpected sight of the evening, followed quickly but the most unexpected statement.

A tech stood in the doorway pale faced and sweating and looking like he'd just gotten fucked in the worst way as he stared at Cutler and tried to seem calm despite the whole aura of absolute panic that surrounded him.

"I need your help."

* * *

They'd gone to ground, hiding in the fading darkness as dawn rose all around them, highlighting the crimson fields they left behind.

Martin hadn't even made it back to the main base before he'd been called back.

"What happened?" He asked, eyes skipping over the familiar carnage of the dead nomalies to fixate on the Manticore guards that littered the fields.

"They've lost it," the guard he'd given the camera to earlier stated bluntly, expression tight as he stared at the bodies. "They're killing anything and everything that enters the woods now."

"So shoot them." The guard spared Martin a furious look.

"We've been trying," he snapped. "Why do you think there's so many dead bodies?"

Martin's jaw clenched.

"Get the gas," he stated. "We'll knock 'em out."

"We tried that," the guard replied. "It didn't work."

That got Martin's attention.

"What the fuck do you mean it didn't work?"

* * *

They felt slow and tired and sluggish – _gas,_the cognitive part of their mind supplied. The enemy had tried to poison them.

It had partially worked. The smaller members of their group had fallen, slipping into an unconscious state that had the rest of them worried. Their leader paced in agitation, the alpha's following his lead while the rest gathered around the fallen, sitting quietly as they waited for them to stir.

In the distance came a new noise that had their leader snapping his head in it's direction, a low rumbling growl emerging from his throat in a silent threat.

_Back __off,_he warned, but the thing didn't listen. When the first of their attackers crested the hill, they were waiting.

* * *

Martin called off the assault after the fifteenth body hit the ground, pulling Manticore troops back and feeling his heart hammer in his chest as he stared in dumbstruck horror in the face of a startling realization.

He'd gotten exactly what the Committee had wanted – a squad full of savage animals. The downside was that in the process, he'd lost a squad full of soldiers.

* * *

Cutler's first instinct was juvenile and stupid but he went with it anyways.

"Son of a fucking bitch." Martin never saw the fist coming and judging from his completely gobsmacked expression and the slight lulling of his head to the side, it'd take a few seconds for him to figure out Cutler was the one who'd hit him.

Cutler didn't waste those seconds standing around waiting for Martin to recover. He was in and out the door as soon as he figured out the location of his squad.

"What's the plan?" Gables asked, expression tight as he followed as Cutler stalked back down the hallway.

"Prep the Beta Squad," Cutler ordered. "I want them ready in five."

"Sir?" Gables stared at Cutler in mystification, coming to a dead stop as he tried to follow the other man's logic and failed.

"Alpha Squad things anything that's not one of them right now is the enemy," Cutler kept walking, forcing Gable to jog to keep up. "They eliminated the nomalies and now their eliminating the only other threat out there – us."

"So you want to send in Beta Squad to subdue them?" Gables left the are-you-insane portion of his question off, but it was still present in his tone.

"Beta Squad isn't the enemy, Gables," Cutler reached the door at the end of the hall, opening it into the fresh air and heading back towards the jeep they'd used to drive up here. "We are."

* * *

Gabe listened carefully as Cutler debriefed his squad, his expression completely blank even as he listened to the rising pulse rates of his squad.

"How bad is it, Sir?" He asked once Cutler had finished explaining nothing. Sure, he now knew that Squad 3 was out there playing monster in the woods, but he knew Squad 3 almost as well as he knew his own men – if they were spooked, there was a damned good reason for it.

"You'll have to use visual search patterns," Cutler finally stated.

Visual search patterns meant there noses were all but useless and the only thing strong enough to completely knock out that scent was either a chemical of some sort or blood – lots and lots of blood.

"Anything else we should be aware of, Sir?" Sari asked as the transport truck slowed to a halt at the edge of the training grounds.

"No weapons," Cutler answered. "You're going in alone."

Cutler was quiet for a moment, studying them carefully with solemn eyes before continuing on.

"I'm asking for volunteers only here," he finally stated, surprising every last one of them. "I won't force any of you out into the field, not for this."

"We'll go," Vix spoke, drawing Cutler's attention to her. Her eyes shown fiercely as she stared coldly down at Cutler, some foreign emotion he couldn't even begin to comprehend erecting itself there like a rod of titanium steel.

"We'll go," Vix repeated, rising to her feet and turning towards the door, hesitating for a moment and turning back to Cutler right before she exited. "We take care of our own."

* * *

They identified the new presence with an increased level of alertness, standing in a quiet circle around the still recovering and still unconscious, their blood dripping to mix with the blood on the ground as the first of the others appeared over the horizon.

They carried no weapons. Their leader stood in front of them, watching their group carefully as the rest of his pack ranged behind them, heading for their pack.

Their leader waited patiently for their arrival, allowing them within five feet before growling low in his throat. It wasn't a threat, just a warning.

_Stay_, it spoke. _Stay __until __I __trust __you __enough __to __let __you __closer._

One of the females didn't head the threat, taking another step forward only to trip backwards when their leader let loose with an even louder growl, this one threatening.

They were surprised when it was one of their own and not one of the female's who reacted, one of their hunters growling at their leader as he stepped away from the two females he'd been crouched over to insert his body between the leader's and the female.

Their leader growled again and the hunter returned it, his position clear.

_Don't hurt her, don't even fucking try._

They shifted uneasily amongst themselves, surprised by this sudden display of loyalty to one that wasn't their own.

"599," their leader spoke, looking alarmed when, as one, they turned their attention to him.

"599," he repeated, holding strong in the face of their collective scrutiny. "You've been ordered to stand down and report. Comply."

The words were familiar and the thinking part of their brains urged them to listen. The fact that that part of their brains had been accurate so far had them paying attention.

"You've been given an order, 599," the words were harsh and yet familiar. Their leader cocked his head to the side and stared.

"Ben," the female spoke then, directly her attention to their hunter who turned his head towards her expectantly.

"You're Ben," she stated slowly, watching his eyes for comprehension and feeling hopeful when she saw a vague flicker of recognition.

"Ben?" His voice was raw and scratchy, completely worn and sounding more suited to screaming than speaking. When he opened his mouth they could see the blood that coated his teeth, falling in flakes from the corners of his mouth as he puzzled over the word.

"Yes, Ben," the female repeated, taking a careful step forward while keeping a cautious eye on their leader. He allowed the movement, expression curious as his mind struggled with something…another word that floated through the back of his mind.

_Zack._

"You're Ben and I'm Vix," she stated before pointing to her own leader. "And this is Gabe. We're your friends."

"Friends?" Another of them spoke, one of their scouts with eyes that could see farther than the rest.

"Yes, friends," Gabe spoke. "You're name is Hawk and we're you're friends."

"Hawk?" Recognition flickered again.

"We have to go down now," Gabe stated, motioning back towards the direction they came.

"The enemies that way," Zack – he knew he was Zack now – stated tersely. "We have to go the other way."

"The enemy has been neutralized," Gabe countered. "We can go this way now."

Zack eyed Gabe suspiciously.

"You have injured," another of their females stated, standing near the side of Gabe.

_Sari__ – _the name floated to the front of their brains.

"We can help care for them." She approached carefully, watching Zack as she crouched next to the nearest injured form – Zane.

"His arms broken," she stated, slowly rising to her feet. "He needs medical care now – you all do."

"It isn't safe," Zack insisted stubbornly.

"Do we have a choice?" Seth replied, feeling fogged and confused as he supported Vada and took a careful step forward. "We have injured that need medical attention."

Zack thought about this for a brief second before nodding once.

"You're right." He glanced back at Gabe. "You're sure you've eliminated the enemy combatants?"

"They're dead," Gabe assured him. Zack turned away, satisfied with this answer even as Sari, Jeff, and Vix glanced over at their CO, seeing the promise in his eyes. Even though the people who had done this were breathing now, there would come a day when he would personally make sure they stopped.

"I get to help," Vix whispered, supporting Ben carefully as Jeff carefully lifted Max from the ground, eyeing Mecca cautiously when the other transgenic growled at him for getting too close to Jondy.

"Done," Gabe agreed, his rage growing by leaps and bounds as they passed through the killing fields into the waiting arms of the bastards who'd arranged the whole thing.

* * *

"Explain." Lydecker wasn't furious, wasn't pissed – those were too light of words to describe the emotions coursing through him as he studied the man sitting across from him.

"It was an experiment," Martin repeated through numb lips, his life already over and him knowing that full well. His only chance to escape had come and gone with Cutler – the man had left him in the bunker after punching him and come back for him once the Alpha Squad had been secured in Psy-Ops. No way, no how now that Lydecker had his hands on him was Martin even leaving this office alive, not after Lydecker had seen the damaged state his kids had been in up close and personal.

"Who the fuck authorized it?" Martin said nothing which was answer enough.

"Last words?" Lydecker asked, pulling his service revolver from its holster and staring dispassionately at the man on the other side of the desk.

"They're monsters," Martin stated, eyes haunted as he stared imploringly into Lydecker's emotionless eyes. "Kill them – kill them before they kill you."

Martin was dead before the gunshot had even finished echoing, a single hole perfectly centered on his forehead leaking blood onto the carpet as Lydecker silently reholstered his weapon.

"Duly noted."

**A/N:**I've been thinking a lot about all my writing lately while I've been working. My conclusion is that I hate it when people leave great stories unfinished and I don't want to be one of those people.

Here's the scoop: I've got a lot planned for this. I wrote this chapter of Toy Soldiers because I had two pages started and I know these characters the best out of all the groups, but the next story updated is either going to be Dark Territory or Bohica. I've got individual time lines for each story, but there's a bigger picture I have to keep track of. Toy Soldiers is way ahead of the other stories right now, so I have a lot of catching up to get to.

The good news is I know where I want to go with DT and Bohica. I also have twelve chapters of Burn & Bleed, the Las Vegas Manticore story, plotted. Then comes Obsolete, the Atlanta Manticore story and the first phase will be completed.

The bad news is that I'm currently trying to get a position teaching English overseas which means I have homework, paperwork, and e-mail's up the wazoo to sort through. Plus I work two jobs, and weekends, so…

I don't edit my writing (which is really bad, I know) because if I did nothing would ever get published. I'll write when I can and hopefully you'll be seeing more updates soon. The more you review, though, the more guilt I feel about letting you down and the more motivated I am to write faster…just some food for thought, there.


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